Best of Intentions
by muchtvs
Summary: Sequel to Thursday Afternoon. The Cohens and Ryan deal with the aftermath of Thursday's revelation. Oh the drama, part two. Adult language.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The OC. I take it out for walks, but always return it safely.  
  
**Author's Note**: This story is a sequel to another story of mine, _Thursday Afternoon_. It begins the morning after _Thursday Afternoon_ ends. I suspect that if you have not read _Thursday_ _Afternoon_, then this story will be completely stupid, confusing and not at all entertaining. In all likelihood, even if you have read _Thursday Afternoon_, this story may indeed still be confusing. But I had a great time writing it, and in the end, it is all about me, so, there you go. It takes place early in the series, right after Sandy has left the P.D.'s office.  
  
I want to thank each and every person who read and reviewed _Thursday Afternoon_. I honestly did not expect any feedback and the wave of support was overwhelming. I hope that I do not disappoint anyone with this sequel.  
  
Huge, huge tip of the hat to crashcmb who stepped up to the plate and took over beta duties. It's not an easy job.  
  
Thanks again for reading,

muchtvs  
  
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Best of Intentions  
  
Prologue  
  
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It's Christmas in his dream, and Sara is still alive. His sons Josh and Brad, sitting on the den floor surrounded by presents, excitedly tear into wrapping paper.  
  
He can see them giggling, but their voices sound far away and distorted, as if he's listening to them from the bottom of a pool.  
  
Ed watches it all through a fog, detached from the festivities. He moves across the room in slow motion to Sara. "I'm sorry," he tells her. "I didn't know about the boy. It happened before we met. I would never hurt you." She smiles at him, reaches under the Christmas tree and offers a beautifully decorated present. "Open it Ed," Sara urges. The boys stop their movements and watch their father intently.  
  
In his hotel room, Ed Carden wakes up in a sweat, wondering what it all means.  
  
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Sandy Cohen can't sleep.  
  
One son is hooked up to an IV and the other one is pushed into a corner, using a coat as a pillow. Sandy just doesn't understand Ryan sometimes. At some point while he and Kirsten were eating dinner, a nurse must have brought in a foldout chair and bedding, but Ryan isn't using it. Instead, the teenager is lying on the cold hospital floor, all curled up with his arms around his mid-section. Sandy yawns, stands up, stretches, and throws away the sandwich that he bought for Ryan. Both boys had been fast asleep by the time he and Kirsten returned to Seth's room from the hospital cafeteria a few hours ago.  
  
Sandy unfolds the chair and places a sheet and pillow on it. Leaning over Ryan, he gently nudges the sleeping teen.  
  
"Ryan, come on. You can't sleep all night on this floor."  
  
Ryan shifts his position, blinks up at Sandy, and asks in confusion, "What's going on?"  
  
"Nothing," Sandy answers, and starts to heave Ryan into a standing position. "Come on, let's get you a little more comfortable." Under Sandy's guidance, the boy staggers to the makeshift bed and plops down.  
  
Ryan rubs his eyes, asks Sandy in a daze, "Where are you going to sleep?"  
  
It dawns on Sandy that Ryan slept on the floor, and not in the chair, out of consideration for him.  
  
Seth would have never done that.  
  
The lawyer guides Ryan onto his side. "Don't worry about me, Ryan. Go back to sleep," he quietly tells the teenager. "Everything's fine."  
  
Sandy covers the boy with a blanket, sits down on the remaining chair in the room, and watches as Ryan's breathing resumes the natural rhythm of sleep.  
  
Ryan's not the most abused, neglected, or messed up kid Sandy Cohen has ever dealt with. He's been the public defender to barely-teenage prostitutes, countless gang members, drug dealers, and a boy who tried to murder his father with a tire iron. Once, a few weeks ago over beers, Jimmy asked him why he brought Ryan home, why Ryan was different than the rest of the kids he had worked with.  
  
Sandy didn't answer him because he knew Jimmy Cooper wouldn't understand.  
  
But Kirsten did, and that was all that mattered. Twenty years ago, she brought the same boy home to her parents and fought to keep him.  
  
To hell with the rest of the world, it already had its' chance at Ryan.  
  
He belongs to them now.  
  
In the quiet Newport hospital room, Sandy Cohen watches both of his sons sleep.  
  
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To be continued...


	2. Best of Intentions Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The OC. I take it out for walks, but always return it safely.

**Author's Note**: Yeah, people are still interested in a sequel. Thank you so much for all the positive feedback. I was a little worried that nobody would remember _Thursday_ well enough to bother reading this story. The support you guys provide never ceases to amaze me. Thank you.

Spotlight on my beta **crashcmb,** come on out from behind the curtain, take a bow.

On with the drama.

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Best of Intentions  
  
Chapter One

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**Friday**

Seth wakes up choking. He can't breathe; something's burning his throat. He coughs in an effort to catch his breath, but it's not working. The burning is getting worse. He tries to sit up and his stomach revolts. Leaning over the side of his hospital bed, he spits up a miniscule amount of liquid and begins to dry heave. He feels a hand on his back, rubbing and patting. In the background, he hears a voice, calm but assertive, "Ryan, go get a nurse." More back patting followed by, "Ride it through Seth. It'll be over in a minute."  
  
Despite his confusion, Seth places the voice. His dad. Ride it through? He's hurling up a lung, not coasting on a goddamn wave. His eyeballs feel strained, like they are ready to pop out of their sockets.  
  
The door to his hospital room opens and Seth glances up enough to see pink scrubs enter. He feels a smaller, softer hand on the back of his neck.  
  
"I'm going to help you lie back down Seth," a feminine voice tells him. "Nothing's coming up and you're turning blue."  
  
He's able to gulp air now, but the effort is making his stomach hurt even more. His throat is roasting marshmallows on a campfire that used to be his esophagus. Seth closes his eyes and concentrates on breathing. Sporadic hitching gives way to deeper breaths and finally he feels back under control. A cool, damp washcloth wipes the area around his mouth. His dad's hand returns, brushing hair off his forehead. If it's possible, Seth's pretty sure he feels worse at this moment than when his mother brought him in yesterday.  
  
"He's awfully warm," he hears his father say. "Could his temperature be back up?"  
  
"Dad," Seth croaks, "My throat hurts."  
  
Several seconds pass and then he feels a spoon at his lips. He cracks an eye open and sees glorious ice chips. They don't go down as easily as yesterday, and after an agonizing swallow, Seth's not sure if the ice chips are helping or making things worse. He pushes a second spoonful away.  
  
He's reconsidered his position on the mono. Seth doesn't like it anymore. He no longer has any interest in being all about the mono.  
  
The mono sucks.  
  
Seth feels a tugging at his ear and a digital thermometer is placed in it. The nurse answers his father's question with, "Actually, his temp is down to 101.7. We'll take one of the blankets off, see if that helps." Seth raises his hand to his head and is surprised at how heavy it feels. He's depleted of all energy. The mono is worse than his one-time hangover and not nearly as much fun.  
  
"Uhfffffffffff," he manages to grind out.  
  
When he opens his eyes again, his dad is watching him, concern and sympathy evident in his eyes. Looking past his father, he spies Ryan scrunched in the corner, looking slightly freaked out, his hair disheveled. Seth feels bad now that he begged Ryan to stay the night. No one should have to wake up to this shit.  
  
Seth's been stalling the swallowing reflex but his saliva glands are on overload from the attempted vomiting. He grimaces and turns his head, braces himself, counts to five and swallows. It hurts so bad he arches his back slightly.  
  
"Just shoot me now," he whispers.  
  
The nurse returns and, between she and Sandy, they manage to coax Seth into gargling a mixture of water and salt.  
  
"Try to go back to sleep son," Seth hears his father urge. "It's only 5 o'clock." He feels his father's fingers running through his hair. Seth's pride tells him that he's too old to be treated like a Labrador Retriever but his father's ministrations are actually helping. He'll just never admit it to anyone.

Ever.  
  
Despite the intensely gross taste in his mouth and the deep burning in his throat, Seth manages to drift back to sleep.  
  
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Sandy stands up to find Ryan still watching the early morning events from the corner of the room behind the door. His foster son can be so inconspicuous that Sandy wonders if the nurse even realized that the teenager had followed her back into the room.  
  
"Well, he's back asleep. That was no fun, huh?" Sandy tries to sound cheerful despite the grim wake-up call.  
  
Ryan's not sure how to answer. He sprang to his feet a few minutes ago at the sound of Seth choking. It had scared the shit out of him. How can Sandy always be so goddamn calm and blasé?  
  
"Ryan," Sandy says his name softly, "Why don't you try and go back to sleep too. You only got a few hours of shut-eye yourself."  
  
Ryan tries to clear his head. What day is it? Seth is sick; they're in the hospital. It's Friday, Sandy said 5 o'clock. Ryan's shaky, jittery with lethargy, as if he just went to sleep a few minutes ago. Last night's events feel like a dream.  
  
"Ryan," Sandy repeats his name, "You should go back to sleep too. He's ok, it's all right, try and go back to sleep."  
  
Ryan processes his foster father's words. He blinks slowly and studies the older man. Sandy looks worn-out. He has bags under his eyes and is still wearing the suit he had on yesterday. His shirt is a wrinkled mess.  
  
Sandy stares back at Ryan in anticipation, waiting for the boy to say something. But even under the best of circumstances, words don't come easily for Ryan. He drops his head, wanting so badly to say something nice, tell Sandy he should sleep, take care of himself, but years of solid defense mechanisms won't allow the teenager to let his guard down. Something shifted last night between he and Sandy, and Ryan's not ready to go back to normal. He keeps his head down, hoping Sandy will get the hint, and back off like the rest of the world usually does whenever he chooses to shut it out. He's almost disappointed when the man does.  
  
"I'm going to go grab a cup of coffee Ryan," Sandy says, his voice less enthusiastic than a minute ago. "You should try and get some sleep."  
  
As Sandy walks to the door, Ryan instinctively backs up a step, cramming himself even deeper into the corner. When his action causes Sandy to hesitate before opening the hospital room door, Ryan immediately regrets it. God, what is he doing? Sandy has never shut him out or treated him harshly, not even when he burned Kirsten's freakin' house down. And now, he's repaying the man by acting like a spoiled brat. He can still stop this.

Ryan tries to think of something casual to say that will break last night's tension. It's clinging to the two of them like moss.

Seth is sick.  
  
Sandy doesn't need his bullshit brooding right now.  
  
But it's so hard, trying to figure out what to say, and silence is so easy.  
  
Ryan can't quite bring himself to form words and his brief window of opportunity is lost as Sandy gives him a disappointed glance and exits the room.  
  
Ryan waits until the door shuts before smacking himself on the forehead with his fist.  
  
It doesn't hurt enough, so he does it again.  
  
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Outside the hospital room, Sandy lets out a slow sigh. He thought Ryan was past the initial shock of yesterday, but it appears as though the teen is in lock-down mode again. He's not sure what he expected. Ryan found out last night that, in all likelihood, his father is a total stranger. Processing that information is going to take more time than five restless hours in a hospital room. How can he and Kirsten help Ryan past this crisis when the boy's initial reaction to all that is uncomfortable is complete withdrawal?

Sandy rubs his face, feeling the stubble that has grown during his impromptu overnight hospital stay. It's too early to call Kirsten. Hopefully she is still asleep. They parted at two in the morning, deciding that at least one of them had to be somewhat refreshed in case Seth was discharged today.  
  
Sandy smells coffee, and reflexively follows the scent to a small coffee cart. He appears to be the first customer; the twenty-something behind the counter is still organizing the cash register. Sandy invests $5.85 on a large mocha, and as the young man is handing Sandy his change, he wishes the lawyer a happy Friday. Uh oh, Sandy realizes, it's Friday. He has a huge court appearance this afternoon. When he was at the P.D.'s office, he wouldn't have had to worry about calling in and rescheduling or simply having a colleague cover for him in court. But his new job is different. He's not sure if Seth's mononucleosis even counts as a medical emergency in the pool of sharks he has elected to swim in. He could feign ignorance, claim that Seth was still having tests run. It wasn't a total lie. But he can already hear the response, 'Is it life threatening? Are you sure you can't sneak away for a couple of hours?' It took Sandy forever to convince the partners to take the case to trial. They will most certainly insist that he keep his appointment in court.  
  
Shit.  
  
He should have never taken this job. Yesterday it made him inaccessible to Kirsten; today it's pulling him away from his family when they need him the most. It's already compromised his morals. Now it's compromising his ability to be a husband and a father.  
  
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Ryan sits on the lounger deciding whether or not he wants to bother going back to sleep. He's exhausted but, between Seth's illness and last night's events, his nerves are on edge. After a few minutes, he gives up. Standing, he folds up the chair, pushes it into a corner, places all the bedding on top, and tries to figure out what to do next. Sandy will be back in a few minutes. Ryan's first reaction is to just leave a note and take off for a while. He needs some time to himself. But Seth is sick. He can't bounce. Seth needs him here and Ryan promised he would stay.  
  
An unfamiliar nurse walks into the room and smiles at him. "Is your dad around?" she asks.

Ryan doesn't bother to correct her. It doesn't seem to matter at this point.

He's got a whole fucking black hat full of daddies. Just pluck one out like a rabbit, lady.  
  
"He, uh, stepped out for a few minutes." Ryan tells her.

She walks over to Seth's bed and checks the IV bag. "When your dad comes back, will you let him know that Dr. Holbrith needs to speak to him?" Ryan tenses and the nurse smiles again. "Tell him it's good news," she assures the boy before exiting.  
  
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Holbrith runs into Sandy on his way back to the isolation ward. The doctor looks ragged and Sandy realizes that he isn't the only one that didn't go to sleep last night.  
  
"You look like you need an outrageously expensive cup of coffee doc," he says to Holbrith. "Can I buy you one?"  
  
The doctor laughs slightly, "No, thanks Mr. Cohen. If I have one more cup of coffee, I'm going to have to check myself into rehab. Did they let you know I was looking for you?"  
  
Sandy shakes his head no, looks at the doctor expectantly. Holbrith continues.  
  
"I've consulted with Dr. Hughes. I'm comfortable with his diagnosis of mononucleosis and we both agree that, barring any further complications, Seth can be discharged later today. I'm off duty in an hour, but I wanted to touch base with you before I took off. Dr. Meyers will most likely take over Seth's case. He'll review treatment procedures, as well as a few test results, with you before Seth is sent home."  
  
"He's still running a temperature," Sandy says skeptically. He's eager to get Seth out of the hospital and back home but his son seems less than healthy.  
  
"Yes," Holbrith nods, "I'm afraid that with mono, a low-grade temperature for the first few weeks is not uncommon. But Seth's high temp yesterday was a result of dehydration. You shouldn't see the severe temperature swings anymore."  
  
Sandy shakes the woman's hand and tells her to get some sleep. He heads to Seth's room feeling rejuvenated. It's too early to call Kirsten, but he can share the good news with Ryan.  
  
As he enters the hospital room, he stops cold in the doorway and tries not to jump to any premature conclusions.  
  
Ryan is gone.  
  
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Exiting the hospital, Ryan fumbles with his pack of cigarettes and groans, remembering that he kicked his lighter into oblivion last night. He pats the pockets of his jacket. No other lighter, no matches.  
  
Damn, no cigarette.  
  
He runs his fingers through his bangs and rubs his forehead. He's still a little unstable from lack of sleep. He needs a cigarette to wake up and clear his head. Ryan spots a convenience store across the street from the hospital. It shouldn't take him more than ten minutes to run there and back. With a little luck, Seth will sleep through his entire absence.  
  
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Sandy checks on Seth and then walks back to the waiting room area. Ryan wouldn't take off. Would he?  
  
He was coming around last night, composed, handling things. But still, the boy was off-center this morning. Maybe he wasn't as well adjusted after last night as Sandy was hoping.  
  
Where the hell did the kid go?  
  
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Ryan secures a lighter and a cheap cup of coffee. He balances the coffee in his hand and hurries back to the hospital. He finds a corner just out of sight of the emergency room entrance and sits down on the ground. Lighting a cigarette, Ryan leans back against the concrete wall and basks in the effects of the nicotine as it automatically wakes up all of his nerve endings. But it's early and Ryan is a bit out of practice smoking a cigarette first thing in the morning. He coughs slightly as the smoke burns his lungs. After a few more puffs, he extinguishes it and concentrates on the coffee. He takes a few small sips, and listens to the birds chirping all around him. Ryan loves this time of the morning. Other than the universal sound of birds peeping, it's quiet everywhere at 5:30 a.m. In Chino he used to sit on his front stoop, smoke a cigarette, and watch the neighborhood slowly come to life.  
  
Since Newport, he's been sleeping in, waking up just in time to get dressed and go into the kitchen to meet Seth everyday before school.  
  
Seth is never quiet in the morning and the frantic chirping of the birds reminds Ryan a lot of his foster brother. All that damn noise and not a darn thing that's comprehensible. He smiles to himself at the comparison.  
  
Ryan sips his coffee and contemplates what to do about the note he has in his pocket from Ed Carden. He wishes Seth wasn't sick. He needs someone other than Sandy and Kirsten to talk to. For a second he entertains calling Marissa, but they aren't really friends. Not like he and Seth are. He doesn't actually know her all that well. Besides, she has enough shit happening in her own family to deal with. She doesn't need to worry about him.  
  
Ryan takes the message out of his pocket and toys with it, flipping it back and forth.  
  
The teen reaches for his cell, pauses, then gets the phone out and punches in the number that Carden left to his hotel room. It's early as hell, but screw it. If the guy wants to talk to him badly enough the time shouldn't matter.  
  
After three rings, a tired voice comes on the line and asks a confused, "Hello?"  
  
Ryan doesn't answer. What the hell is he thinking? Calling Carden right now is the last thing he should be doing.  
  
"Hello?" Carden repeats.  
  
Ryan puts his finger on the end button, but hesitates. Instead of hanging up, he blurts out, "I got your note."  
  
"Ryan?" Carden asks uncertainly.  
  
"I think you're full of shit. My mom never said anything about you."  
  
"Funny," Carden replies without missing a beat, "She never mentioned you either."  
  
The teenager doesn't respond and after a few seconds of dead air Carden asks, "Are you there Ryan? Look, if you're still listening, I want to apologize for last night. I was an asshole for coming to your house. I'm sorry. I never should have lied to you and no way in hell should I have put you in a position like that. I wouldn't blame you for hanging up on me and I'm eternally grateful that you even bothered to call me."  
  
Ryan remains silent, digesting the rushed words. Carden takes the silence as a consent to continue.  
  
"I'm not sure how much information Sandy has told you Ryan and I don't know if he let you in on the conversation we had in his office. But I'm not crazy Ryan. I'm not some deranged stalker. Up until yesterday, I'd never done an impulsive thing in my life. But your mom, she dropped this news on me about you and I completely panicked. And I dragged you into that panic Ryan, and that was irresponsible and reprehensible. I think you should hang up now. I haven't done a single thing to deserve the privilege of talking to you."  
  
"You saw my mom yesterday."  
  
Carden's not sure if Ryan is asking a question or seeking confirmation. Either way, his answer to the boy is, "Yes."  
  
"So you know where she is?" Ryan asks quietly.  
  
"Yes," Carden answers quickly. "I could take you to her. Would you like to see her? We could talk as much or as little as you want on the drive. You're going to be in charge here Ryan. I'll back off unless you tell me differently."  
  
Ryan considers the man's offer. "I can't go right now. Seth is still in the hospital. I'll call you later." The teenager abruptly hangs up and with an unsteady hand, flips his phone closed.  
  
What the hell is he doing?  
  
Ryan lights another cigarette and takes a deep puff. All around him the birds continue their frenzied twittering.  
  
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Sandy walks out of the emergency room exit and looks around the parking lot. Ryan is nowhere to be found inside the hospital. The lawyer is both irate that Ryan would leave and distressed at the thought that the boy may have taken off. Sandy calls out in frustration, "Ryan!" He's amazed when, from around the corner, the missing teenager instantly emerges.  
  
"Ryan," Sandy takes a steps towards the boy, "I was worried about you. Where the hell have you been?" Sandy hopes he comes off as concerned, not smothering.  
  
The teenager lifts up his cigarette, shows it to Sandy, and shrugs a guilty, apologetic look.  
  
"What is going on with you and me Ryan?" Sandy asks exhaustedly and flips his hands out in a questioning manner. "Help me out because I lost my scorecard. Are you talking to me? Are you not talking to me? Because I thought last night, before you fell asleep, we had worked a few things out. But now you're back to playing the isolated mute Ryan, and don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of the mute, wish more people would do it, and quite frankly you've got that act down pat kid, better than anyone else I have ever met, but I gotta tell you, I'm so tired right now that I just need you to give it all you got and force out a verbal response. Can you do that for me Ryan, take one for the team, for old times sake, can you just let me know if you're talking to me? A simple yes or no will do. I don't need a dissertation. You can still be angry, and resentful and mad as hell at me and your mom and the guy that drove you to the hospital last night and I don't know who else, your third grade teacher, whoever, pick another random adult that has screwed you over kid. But please, Ryan, throw me a bone here, yes or no, that's all I'm asking. Are you speaking to me?"  
  
Ryan jerks his head back slightly and responds with a somewhat shocked, "Yes."  
  
"Great!" the lawyer exclaims, sounding more manic than relieved. "That's the answer I was hoping for."

After a short pause, Sandy says a bit more sternly, "Now put out that damn cigarette."  
  
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Ed finishes a quick shower and dresses. He can't believe that Ryan called. There's no way that Sandy Cohen could possibly know, Cohen wouldn't have let the boy contact him; he would have called Ed himself.  
  
It's interesting, Ed thinks, that Ryan needs to wait until his foster brother is out of the hospital before he will allow himself to meet up with Ed. Most kids would be dying to get answers, put themselves first. Ryan's only lived with the Cohens a few months but already he has obviously developed a strong attachment to the Cohen's son.

The kid is loyal to family, even to one he is just becoming a part of.  
  
Ed glances at his watch. It's early in California but in Illinois, at his sister's home, everyone should be awake and eating breakfast.  
  
Carden reaches for the phone.  
  
He has an idea.  
  
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To be continued........Sunday.


	3. Best of Intentions Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own The OC. I take it out for walks, but always return it safely.  
  
Author's Note: Let me see here, maybe if I widen the door a little, yes, there. Now this post is big enough for both my EGO and me. Oh good golly folks. Feedback much? Wow. I am completely grateful and quite humbled at the quality and quantity of reviews. Unbelievable. Thank you so much.  
  
Round of applause please for **crashcmb**, the wonder-beta. I literally could not post without her abilities and her numerous suggestions.  
  
On...with...the...drama!  
  
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Best of Intentions  
  
Chapter Two  
  
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Ed calls his sister Carol.  
  
She's confused at first. It's early, and she just heard from him last night; he had sounded exhausted and frantic.  
  
"Carol," Ed manages to fake up-beat, happy. "I've been thinking about what you said last night, with Brad's birthday coming up and how it's important that we all be together."  
  
"Uh huh..." Carol answers, not sure what her brother is leading up to.  
  
"I'm going to fly you and the kids out here, to California."  
  
"Are you drunk Ed?" Carol asks, dead serious.  
  
"No," he responds.  
  
"Are you insane?" She offers as a second possible choice.  
  
"Maybe," he laughs, tries to make it sound casual. "Look Carol, you only live once, right? God knows that point has been driven home to all of us. It's beautiful out here, there's so much for the kids to do and I can arrange a few more days off. I want to fly you guys out here. We'll play on the beach; take the kids to Disneyland or Legoland, or both. Celebrate Brad's birthday in style." Ed adds quietly, "Help him take his mind off his mother. We should do this Carol. Bring my boys out to California."  
  
"What else is going on Ed?" Carol asks. She knows him too well, something's up. It was up last night when he couldn't bring himself to talk to her. Something significant is happening with her brother.  
  
"If you bring the boys to California Carol, I'll tell you everything."  
  
She agrees to do it. She loves him, and she's been so worried about him since Sara's death. Maybe this trip will be beneficial for her nephews too.  
  
He promises to call her back once he's booked a flight and arranged more leave time.  
  
"I won't tell the boys until it's certain Ed," she says before she hangs up.  
  
"Oh, it's certain Carol," Ed assures her, "I want my boys in California."  
  
Ed makes all the arrangements. Everything falls into place so easily. The airfare cost an arm and a leg, but Ed could care less about that right now. Sara's life insurance policy left them with a huge in-flux of cash that Ed has yet to touch. If he has to, he'll dip into that fund.  
  
He calls his sister back, tells her he will e-mail the itinerary and tickets.  
  
Ed hangs up with his sister and decides to make one more quick call before heading downstairs for some breakfast and a DSL connection.  
  
He's made a promise to Ryan that Ed has every intention of keeping.  
  
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Kirsten arrives at the hospital a little after 9:30 a.m. She has barely slept but doesn't intend to tell her husband that.  
  
What he doesn't know won't hurt him.  
  
She opens the door to Seth's room and is greeted by her sick son propped up in bed quietly smashing a bowl of red Jell-O into a million little bouncy pieces of gelatinous goop. When Seth spots his mother, he holds a finger to his lips to shush her entrance. Kirsten gives a hands-up 'What?' and Seth points to the far corner of the cramped hospital room. Sandy is curled up on the floor below the only small window in the room, while Ryan is wedged against another wall. Sandy has his suit jacket for a pillow and Ryan appears to be using a portion of his right arm.  
  
Neither looks very comfortable.  
  
Kirsten spies a vacant foldout chair with a full set of bedding. Seth reaches out and grabs her arm. 'Don't ask,' he mouths and rolls his eyes. Kirsten doesn't need to. She recognizes a battle of the stubborn masked as unselfish when she sees one.  
  
Stupid men should have just asked for a second chair and pillow.  
  
Seth again vies for her attention with a clutch of her arm. Kirsten smiles at him and he directs her gaze to his mangled meal. He's managed to arrange the little globs into a fairly recognizable Jell-O stick-man.  
  
"I'm so proud Seth," she quips and he returns the smile along with a thumbs- up.  
  
Her son still looks flushed and Kirsten reaches out and puts a hand to his forehead. He's warm, but at least warm is not the same as yesterday's boiling hot. Despite the fever and flushed cheeks, Seth is pale. His face looks more gaunt than normal. She hopes the illness and loss of appetite won't last long. Her already slender child will be skin and bones.  
  
"How are you feeling honey?"  
  
Seth arranges a cheery blob frown on the stick-man and looks up at his mom with big brown eyes.  
  
God, he looks dreadful, Kirsten reflects, but he's coming home and that's all that matters.  
  
She glances at her watch. Sandy told her that Dr. Meyers would be in around 9:45. In hospital speak, Kirsten figures that leaves about a three- hour window. Her son still has an IV in, so she assumes he won't be discharged until early afternoon.  
  
Seth braces himself and swallows. Sandy warned her about Seth's throat but watching her son struggle to do such a common reflex is painful for Kirsten. She reminds herself that things could have been much worse.  
  
"I'm sorry," she offers sympathetically.  
  
Seth shrugs nonchalant and yawns.  
  
"I've been awake for 30 minutes," he whispers to his mother in a scratchy voice. "I think that beats the old record of 22 and a half minutes."  
  
"That's wonderful Seth," Kirsten verbally applauds his efforts, "It's unfortunate that your fan club is sleeping through it."  
  
"I have the steadfast support of stick-man Stan," he croaks confidently.  
  
Kirsten laughs and sits down in the comfortable chair. She arranges the pillow to support her head and, in a matter of minutes, dozes off.  
  
Seth admires his creation and eats an ear.  
  
--------------------------------------------  
  
Dawn Atwood can hear her phone ringing. She just doesn't want to answer it. Never should have put the damn thing back on the cradle. Never should have bothered to get phone service in the first damn place. Her history of keeping up on monthly payments isn't exactly stellar.  
  
It's a miracle, given the amount of alcohol she consumed yesterday, but she's basically sober, maybe a little shaky, a little queasy, but more or less clear-headed. Dawn's narrowed down the persistent caller to either Sandy Cohen or Ed Carden. She has no desire to speak to either man. They both represent foolish decisions and painful regrets.  
  
Gerald, her next-door neighbor and new boyfriend, walks in from his graveyard shift and wearily sits down next to her.  
  
"Phone's ringing Sunshine," he nudges her.  
  
"Yep," she says. "I think it's about my kid."  
  
"Trey?" Gerald asks. "Is he getting out or does he need something? We could go and see him today. I'm not all that tired."  
  
"No, not Trey," Dawn mutters, "My other son."  
  
Gerald sits stunned. He's been with Dawn for a month. He's only heard her mention Trey.  
  
He didn't know she had another kid.

--------------------------------------  
  
Ed Carden hangs up in frustration.  
  
He's tried calling all morning.  
  
Thursday, Dawn's phone was busy. Now it's ringing. What's the difference? Nobody answers either way. He needs to make sure Dawn's home. He's promised Ryan a visit.  
  
He can't get a hold of Dawn and Sandy Cohen still hasn't called him. The lawyer vowed a Friday morning call but the morning is almost over. Ed's impatience is rising. It would be nice if Ryan would call back, but Ed's not banking on it. The Cohens are probably keeping a close eye on the kid. Ed wonders how Ryan managed to sneak in the early morning contact in the first place.  
  
-------------------------------------  
  
Sandy smells something foul and realizes, with some amount of shame, that the pungent odor is coming from him. He desperately needs a shower and a shave. His watch reads 10:30 a.m. and Sandy is getting anxious. He's due in court at 1:00 p.m. and he can't show up looking like this. It'll be the end of his career. Seth's new doctor is 45 minutes late. It's time Sandy can't afford.  
  
He looks around the hospital room. Kirsten has her eyes closed but isn't really sleeping. Seth is asleep but keeps waking up in pain. Sometimes he just opens his eyes, looks pitiful, and falls back to sleep. Other times he accepts an ice chip and then drools half of it back into a Kleenex. Ryan is still snoozing; he's been asleep since the two of them caught an early breakfast after walking back inside the hospital. Sandy hopes that the kid is just one of those people that can sleep anywhere. He doesn't want to consider the possibility that Ryan has just had lots and lots of practice at sleeping on cold, uncomfortable floors.  
  
A young man walks in and introduces himself as Doctor Meyers. "Sorry I'm late folks," he apologizes but doesn't offer a reason for his tardiness.  
  
Kirsten sits up and pays attention.  
  
"Should we wake up Seth for this?" Sandy inquires.  
  
"Do you actually think you could?" Doctor Meyers asks, impressed.  
  
"No," Sandy admits, "Probably not."  
  
"You can catch him up later," the doctor advises. "Let him sleep, he's going to anyway. Now, let's talk about getting your son home. He's still running a fever although it's much lower. I don't think we're going to completely get rid of it today. You have to push the fluids or he's going to end up back in here, especially with the frequent nausea. Has Seth eaten anything today, kept it down?"  
  
Kirsten looks over at the metal tray attached to her son's hospital bed.  
  
"Half a Jell-O stick-man," she replies without thinking.  
  
"Huh?" the doctor and Sandy chime in unison.  
  
"Nothing," Kirsten mumbles, then says louder, "Not much of anything."  
  
"Ok well, that's normal with mononucleosis, but if Seth's vomiting and not taking anything in, we're going to be back to square one," the doctor reiterates his earlier concerns. "So you should stock up on Popsicles, broth, caffeine-free tea, anything that he can swallow and has a good chance of keeping down. Cold is probably better, but some people prefer hot. Not too much soda or juice, they can work against the body if he drinks too much."  
  
Kirsten nods. She already knows most of the does and don'ts from when her mother was ill with cancer. She understands the impact of constant vomiting on the human body.  
  
Doctor Meyer resumes. "Seth had a CAT-scan last night. The results are showing an enlarged spleen, which is a somewhat common symptom of mononucleosis. It's not a reason to panic, but Seth's spleen is quite swollen so we need to keep an eye on it. Any severe, sharp stomach pain and it's imperative that Seth be brought back to the emergency room immediately. Right here," the doctor points to an area on the upper part of his abdomen right below his left chest area, "Any pain there and Seth needs to be transported right away. Don't mess with it. Don't second-guess yourselves. Call an ambulance and bring him in. Better safe than sorry. Absolutely no contact sports for at least four to six weeks, maybe longer and I'd advise a follow-up CAT-scan if Seth's pediatrician will agree to it before he's released for any physical activity. Don't allow him to do anything that would risk bursting the spleen. And I do mean any physical activity. Football, basketball, even bike riding, running, or casual wrestling around. Anything, especially any activity where he could fall or be shoved or pushed in the stomach."  
  
"I'll hide the skateboard," Sandy offers.  
  
"I'll help you." Kirsten agrees. God, she thinks to herself, how are they going to keep Seth still for that long? Maybe the hospital will send home sedatives.  
  
"Seth's going to be sleeping constantly or at the very least listless, grumpy, sore throat, possibly headaches, little to no appetite and evidently he's hell bent on hanging on to that fever so, stock up on the Motrin. You need to do a follow-up appointment with Dr. Demsky in a week to do the monospot test to officially confirm mono and I'd keep a close eye on that throat in case a secondary infection starts up. Strep is still a possibility. He's been hit hard, that's for sure." The doctor cringes. "Any questions?"  
  
The Cohens look at Doctor Meyer glassy-eyed.  
  
Sandy drops his head into his hands, rubs his forehead, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "How long?" He inquires without looking up.  
  
"How long can you expect him to be this sick?" The doctor asks.  
  
Still pinching the bridge of his nose, Sandy bobs his head up and down in a yes.  
  
"Two to four weeks." Meyer answers. "Depending on the individual, the extreme tiredness can last up to six weeks, sometimes even months."  
  
"That's just super," Sandy counters flippantly.  
  
Doctor Meyer points to the corner that Ryan is sleeping in. "Is it normal for that one to sleep like that?"  
  
"On the floor?" Kirsten qualifies.  
  
"No," the doctor shakes his head. "In the middle of the day."  
  
"He's just tired," Sandy practically shouts, and then softens, "Please doc, don't even hint at two of them having it. I can't wrap my mind around the concept."  
  
"Doctor Hughes has already discussed the risk factors with us." Kirsten smiles at the doctor and assures him, "We'll keep an eye on Ryan."  
  
-----------------------------------  
  
Gerald holds Dawn's hand as she tells him through tears about her youngest son. His ex-wife lives in Vegas with their three kids. Gerald can relate to the pain of separation from your children. But Dawn's despair is deeper and he's not even going to pretend that he understands most of what she is telling him. If his ex-wife would let him, he'd take his kids back in a second. He can't imagine giving one up voluntarily.  
  
"So whoever keeps calling you Dawn, you figure is either the rich Newport Beach lawyer who's raising your kid now or the guy that you slept with in Fresno who just found out he's the kid's dad."  
  
Dawn sobs and nods.  
  
"Damn Dawn," sighs Gerald, takes off his baseball cap, scratches his forehead. "No wonder you drink so much."  
  
-------------------------------------  
  
It's 11:00 and Sandy knows his chances of helping to get Seth home are over. Ryan and Kirsten are going to have to do it themselves or ask the hospital to hold off discharging Seth until 5:00 p.m. or later.  
  
Sandy hates the position he's in. Ryan, still sleeping, has hardly said more than a few sentences since the parking lot this morning and is quiet and withdrawn. Seth can barely stay awake and poor Kirsten looks as worn out as Sandy feels. He can't believe that he's putting work over his family.  
  
Sandy keeps his voice low and explains the options to Kirsten. His wife, unhappy that she is just now being told that he even has a court date, is less than receptive to the idea of keeping Seth in the hospital any longer than necessary.  
  
"Call the office and explain that you can not possibly go in Sandy," Kirsten urges.  
  
"Honey, believe me, I thought about that. There is just no way. I have to show up in court. We discussed this Kirsten. When I was kicking around taking this job we talked about how it would have more obligations than when I was with the P.D.'s office. This is killing me, please don't make it harder by laying on a guilt trip."  
  
"I never said anything about guilt Sandy," Kirsten says accusatorily, "Don't project your feelings onto me."  
  
"I'll help," Ryan interrupts, his voice heavy with sleep. The teen stands up and cracks his neck, stretches. "Kirsten and I can handle it."  
  
"I don't know Ryan," Kirsten says doubtfully. "He's really out of it." She points to Seth, "I think it's going to take all three of us. Plus, when we get home, someone has to run out and get the supplies that the doctor is recommending. If Sandy has to go to work, then that leaves just one person with Seth while the other one goes to the store."  
  
Her concerns seem so trivial to Ryan that it's hard for him not to laugh. Kirsten is so spoiled. Hell, he could get Seth home by himself. God knows he's had enough practice at transporting semi-conscious people. At least Seth isn't drunk or high.  
  
"I'll pick up whatever Seth needs before I stop by the house to grab a shower," Sandy contributes quickly. "Everything will be waiting for you when you get home."  
  
Kirsten lets out an angry sigh. "Fine," she shakes her head in defeat. "But you better buy only red Popsicles because he can't stand the taste of the orange or green ones, and buy some blue ones if you see them. The blue ones make him happy. And some ice cream too, but get plain chocolate or vanilla because I don't want anything with chunks in it. Wait, skip the chocolate, I think vanilla might be better. Buy Breyers All Natural. And we don't have any broth in the house so get a little chicken and beef; they come in those bullion cubes." Kirsten crosses her arms and looks impatiently at her husband. "Sandy, are you going to write any of this down?"  
  
As Kirsten continues to list items, Ryan fades from the conversation and exits the hospital room. He's never comfortable when the Cohens are fighting and Kirsten is clearly pissed off. He makes his way to the waiting room, fishes in his pocket for a dollar and buys a bottle of soda. He sits down wearily in a seat that provides a clear view of the hallway.  
  
Ryan's neck is stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor. He feels like he barely slept and he'd love to sneak off for a smoke but this morning Sandy took away his last pack. Hell of a time to go cold turkey.  
  
He glances down the deserted corridor to see if Sandy has come out of Seth's room yet. When he doesn't spot his foster father, Ryan reaches for his cell phone and calls Ed Carden.  
  
"It's me," Ryan says as soon as Carden picks up.  
  
"I'm glad you called back Ryan." The enthusiasm in his voice puts a grimace on Ryan's face. "How's Seth?"  
  
"He's better," Ryan answers flatly.  
  
"That's great Ryan, good news. Hey, so, since your friend is going to be ok, maybe we could hook up some time today. Could you possibly meet me? We could drive out and see your mom, talk all of this over with her. How long has it been since you've seen her? I'm sure Mrs. Cohen is wonderful and is treating you really well, but wouldn't it be nice to spend some time with your real mom? You'd like to see her, right?"  
  
Carden stops talking and waits for Ryan's decision.  
  
"Seth's getting out of the hospital in a couple of hours," the teenager comments, avoiding Carden's question.  
  
"Perfect, maybe a meeting between the two of us is a real possibility, huh? We'll drive to Chino, see Dawn, and let the Cohens welcome their son home in privacy. They might need some time alone with him. Having your kid in the hospital is pretty traumatic. The three of them might need a little family time."  
  
Ryan finds Carden's Tommy-gun style proposals overwhelming.  
  
"Uh, Sandy has to go to work for a while. I can't leave Kirsten alone with Seth so, I don't know. Maybe I'll call you later tonight when Sandy comes home but, I gotta go now."  
  
The teenager hangs up.  
  
Carden's pushing him and Ryan feels too tired to deal with the man's onslaught of suggestions and innuendoes. It'd be nice to see his mom though, find out if this jackass is really his dad. Hell, it'd be nice to just see his mom, period. He may not want to live with her, but it would be good to at least see her sometimes, make sure she is eating and not taking drugs, and not falling asleep drunk someplace where someone might hurt her and... Well, it'd just be nice to see her and know she's alive. Some days that nagging question alone is all he can think about.  
  
It's a little confusing, being a human football, passed off to a stronger, more capable player.  
  
Ryan believes that Sandy cares about him, but the Cohens kind of just got stuck with him, like a booby prize born of Sandy's guilt over having survived his own screwed up childhood. Seth never really had much of a choice; he just initially accepted him out of love and respect for Sandy. Hell, Kirsten really didn't want him at all. She never said it, but Ryan could feel the tension bouncing off his foster mother that first weekend.  
  
Carden's interest in him is fueling Ryan's curiosity. He's torn between wanting to ignore Carden in hopes that the man will disappear and wanting to know the truth. It all seems so useless. Even a father miraculously appearing isn't going to salvage his wreck of a childhood. What's done is done.  
  
Ryan's tired.  
  
He finishes the soda, stands up to throw it away, and spots his foster father coming down the hallway. Sandy is in a hurry, barreling down the corridor at top walking speed. Ryan goes to meet him and Sandy comes to an abrupt halt.  
  
"There you are. I told Kirsten you'd be in here. Listen, I know this is a lousy thing to do Ryan but I have to go. I'm sorry. I've told Kirsten I'm sorry, I'll tell Seth tonight when I get home and I'm telling you now, I am very, very sorry for running out on you guys."  
  
Ryan takes a deep breath, squeezes his hands into fists. He can do this. He can force back 'normal' between him and Sandy. Ryan nervously runs his fingers through his hair and tells the older man, "It's no big deal. I think Kirsten's just stressed and blowing everything out of proportion. It'll be fine. I'll make sure everything is ok."  
  
Sandy puts his hand on Ryan's shoulder, keeps it there. "You're a good kid Ryan. I thank God everyday that I stayed a public defender long enough to meet you and make you a part of my family. This isn't fair, that your issue is taking a back burner to Seth's health. Kirsten and I feel terrible about how this whole thing with Ed Carden has been suddenly dumped on you. And when you barely talk to us about what's happening inside of you Ryan, it's difficult for us to know how to help or even what to do."  
  
Ryan nods. He must be exhausted because, at this moment, his foster father's stark display of sentiment has him on the verge of tears.  
  
Sandy breaks the contact. "Ok," he rubber-bands back into lawyer mode, "I have got to get out of here. When I come home, you and I are going to spend a ridiculously lengthy amount of time together and figure out this whole thing with Mr. Carden. I know we can't come to any quick solutions, but we'll work on it together, all right?"  
  
"No," Ryan shakes his head, "I'm fine. I'm handling everything, just..." Ryan pauses, looks at Sandy, "Just concentrate on Seth."  
  
"Eh," Sandy dismisses Ryan's statement with a casual shrug. "According to the doctor he'll probably be sleeping the whole time. Besides Ryan, Seth's not the only kid in my house I'm worried about."  
  
Ryan nods again, blinks rapidly, and stiffens his jaw in an effort to get a hold of his emotions.  
  
He's on a teeter-totter.  
  
Up and down.  
  
Like when they used to live in Fresno and go to the small park by their apartment. Trey would take him, hold his hand as they crossed the street, and make sure he had a jacket on if it was cold. And Ryan loved the teeter- totter because it took two people. Trey had to stay and be on it with him. But he hated the teeter-totter too because sometimes, if Trey was in a bad mood, he would hold his own seat down till it made a deep line in the grass, trapping Ryan as high as the teeter-totter would allow. Ryan would beg and cry and plead with Trey to let him down. "Jump you big baby," Trey would taunt. So one day Ryan did. Trey had him trapped in the sky and Ryan had to go pee so bad. So he held his breath, closed his eyes, tried not to think about how far away the ground was, and he threw himself off the teeter-totter seat. It had seemed like forever before he hit the ground and broke his wrist.  
  
Trey felt terrible and bought, or maybe stole, a candy bar for him every single day the cast was on.  
  
No more teeter-totter or anything else high up for that matter.  
  
Ryan's blinking slows; he watches as Sandy jiggles his pockets for missing keys. "Be right back," his foster father tells him, "I think I left my keys in Seth's room."  
  
Ryan's back on the teeter-totter.  
  
Yesterday Kirsten grabbed Seth and left Ryan alone at the end of the driveway. But today, she's willing to depend on him, instead of her husband, to take care of her ill son. Sandy withholds knowledge of Ed Carden but spills his heart out in a hospital waiting room. His mom abandons him but tells him that she's doing it because she loves him. She leaves him with the Cohens but informs Carden about his existence. Practically hands the guy a fucking map on where to find him. Sandy tells him that he belongs in his family but, to Ryan, there is always a transparent wall that divides him from the three Cohens. They share a language that he feels like he can never fully learn. Maybe he knows enough to fake it to an outside observer, like a hospital nurse, or that new guy in the deli that always says to him, "Tell that beautiful mom of yours that I packed an extra bagel just for her."  
  
But Ed Carden has already picked up on Ryan's biggest insecurity. He's not a Cohen and he never will be.  
  
_The three of them might need a little family time._  
  
Up and down.  
  
Sandy says he and Kirsten want to help, but Ryan knows he can handle things himself.  
  
Out of thin air, Sandy is back in the hallway, right next to Ryan.  
  
"Found em," the older man holds up his keys. "I'll see you later kid."  
  
He pats Ryan once on the shoulder and briskly walks away.  
  
"Ryan," Kirsten stands in Seth's doorway motioning for him. "Modern Marvels is on the History Channel. Come watch it with me. It may be our last chance to relax today."  
  
When he reaches Seth's room, Kirsten points to the comfortable chair. "We'll pull it out and share it," she tells him.  
  
Ryan nods.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
To be continued......


	4. Best of Intentions Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The OC. I take it out for walks, but always bring it home safely.  
  
**Author's Note:** Trying to come up with new and inventive ways of showering everyone with praise for reading and reviewing is exhausting not to mention quite a challenge. How about if I make it easy on everyone this chapter and just say, thanks guys! You know how much I appreciate it.  
  
Need to thank **crashcmb,** the little beta that could. I think she can claim me as a dependent in April. Wink and thanks also to a TWoP'er who provided me with some feedback/insight on the next few chapters.  
  
Here we go. Short chapter. I can't help these things. They begin and end themselves.  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
Best of Intentions  
  
Chapter Three  
  
-------------------------------------------  
  
"I can walk."  
  
Kirsten stares at her son in disbelief.  
  
"Mom, please tell them, I can walk."  
  
"Get in the wheelchair Seth," Kirsten directs. "You can't even stand up straight."  
  
"This is stupid," Seth complains, his voice hoarse and grainy. He sounds like a 50 pack a day smoker.  
  
"This whole hospital thing has been stupid. Stupid needle in my back and stupid Q-tips up my nose and down my throat and stupid gown that you...you had to wear mom. Need I point out that you too, have been a victim of the stupid?"  
  
"Get in the wheelchair Seth," Kirsten repeats patiently.  
  
"And stupid hospital TV. Didn't even have Cartoon Network so I couldn't watch that stupid show with the stupid talking French fries and milkshake and the stupid nurses touching me in places that **I should not have to be touched**." He rushes out the last seven words to emphasize his point.  
  
"You liked the IV," Ryan glibly reminds Seth.  
  
"And you...you had to sleep on the stupid floor," Seth's wrath turns on Ryan, "You should be on my side on this."  
  
"Enough Seth!" Kirsten finally raises her voice. "This nice orderly does not have all day and no one is going to violate hospital regulations just to save you from your own self-consciousness. So stop all of this whining, be thankful you're getting discharged and get your scrawny ass off that bed and into this stupid wheelchair right now."  
  
Seth slides off the hospital bed and slumps into the wheelchair. Pouting, he folds his arms around his midsection.  
  
"Don't say ass mom," he mumbles. "You sound stupid."  
  
"I'm going to chalk that comment up to the fever Seth Cohen." Kirsten says curtly.  
  
"I'll push," Ryan offers.

----------------------------------------  
  
Dawn decides to answer her phone.  
  
Gerald talked her into it, stayed with her all morning, told her that she was taking steps to improve her kid's life and hiding from this latest thing wasn't going to help Ryan. She let the cat out of the bag, might as well pet it instead of waiting for it to claw you out of anger.  
  
As she picks up the receiver, Gerald holds her free hand.  
  
"Dawn?" She hears Ed Carden ask.  
  
"Yes," she answers timidly. She's embarrassed about her behavior Thursday. The worst part about being an alcoholic is facing the music once the buzz and stupor wear off.  
  
"Do you remember me coming to your apartment yesterday Dawn? Do you know who I am?"  
  
"Yes Ed," Dawn murmurs, "I remember everything."  
  
"I'd like to drive out and see you again Dawn. I'd like to bring Ryan with me. We owe him Dawn, you and I. I want to bring him out and talk, just talk. I'm not mad at you Dawn and neither is Ryan. I know that he'd like to see you. Do you understand what I am asking? It's important that we explain things to Ryan."  
  
"Oh God," Dawn starts to break down, "Ryan knows already? Jesus, he's going to hate me. I'm going to fucking lose him for good."  
  
"No, no you won't Dawn," Ed tries to placate her. "He's not angry, he's just confused. But he wants to see you. You should meet with him today Dawn. I'm trying to arrange bringing him out."  
  
"I don't know," the phone shakes in Dawn's hand, she looks to Gerald for support. "I don't think I can see him. Ryan...when he looks at me... like I let him down, I can't deal with that right now. He always just stares at me with those goddamn eyes and he never says a fucking thing. You don't understand how he makes me feel. I can't deal with it right now, I'm sorry. I can't do this."  
  
"Dawn, you have to deal with this," Carden implores. "He's your kid, you can't make him do this alone. He doesn't know me; he doesn't have any idea who the hell I am. You can't just tell me I'm this kid's father and expect me to clean everything up without you. Ryan and you have had sixteen years together; I have nothing with this kid. Dawn, you kept him from me, you chose this, now do the right thing and help me out here. Or better yet, help your own son."  
  
Dawn starts to cry in earnest now. "Tell Ryan I'm sorry," she sobs and hangs up.  
  
Gerald assures her it's ok.  
  
She did the best she could.  
  
"I have to get out of here," Dawn says frantically. "Ed will come looking for me, and God, what if he brings Ryan?"  
  
Dawn picks up a cigarette, her hands trembling with the effort of lighting it.  
  
"I have to get out of here Gerald, I can't deal with any of this shit right now."  
  
"It's all right Dawn," he comforts her, "If you can't handle it, you can't handle it. We'll go to my place, turn the television up real loud, hang out in the back bedroom. I'll take your car down to my work and hide it in the garage. No one will be able to find you Dawn. You can call your kid when you feel better."  
  
"Ok," she shakes her head, wipes at her nose. "Ok."  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
Ed slams the phone.  
  
Fucking alcoholic bitch.  
  
What the hell was he thinking all those years ago in Fresno?  
  
Jesus Christ, his kid had that mess for a mother?  
  
Ed sits down on his hotel bed and starts to sob. Quietly at first, little shudders, followed by big ones that make his shoulders rattle.  
  
It's not fair. What Dawn has done with his flesh and blood, is not fair.  
  
He never cried at Sara's funeral.  
  
He never cried that first night, when Josh wailed and accused him of lying about his mother being dead or when Brad sat patiently on the outside steps waiting for Sara's car to pull up, asking, "When's mom coming home dad?"  
  
He never cried when Sara's mother told him how very much Sara had loved him and he never cried when the coroner asked him if was aware that his wife had been pregnant.  
  
He put on his Air Force blues and he carried Sara's casket and picked out a sturdy granite tombstone and packed up her clothes and cleaned out her dresser and never once, not once, did he cry.  
  
He's never cried for Sara or their unborn child.  
  
Ed is so tired, and he's so frustrated, and he's so sad.  
  
Nothing is fair.  
  
-------------------------------------  
To be continued......


	5. Best of Intentions Chapter Four

Disclaimer: See previous chapters. It's all very interesting.

Author's Notes: Thanks **crashcmb.** For everything. Seriously. Thanks.

Shelbecat: All the chapters aren't done. Started, yes. Done, no.

Group hug: You guys rock.

----------------------------------------

Best of Intentions  
  
Chapter 4  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
Considering it's a Friday afternoon, Kirsten is amazed at how light the traffic is. Still, it's a weekend, and driving home from HOAG is going to take a bit of time.  
  
Seth is in the back seat fast asleep, huddled under a blanket that Kirsten is glad she remembered to bring. She manipulates the rear view mirror so she can keep an eye on her son. All she can make out is a few dark curls.  
  
"Ryan, would you pull that blanket down off his face a little, I'm not sure he can even breathe."  
  
"Yeah, sure" Ryan responds immediately. He snaps off his seatbelt, leans into the backseat, and pulls the blanket down onto Seth's shoulders.  
  
"Thank you," he hears Kirsten say.  
  
Ryan chuckles to himself as he puts his seatbelt back in place. "He can breathe now," he tells her.  
  
Kirsten throws a quick smile in Ryan's direction. "You think I'm being ridiculous, I know."  
  
"No, not at all," Ryan lies. Hell yes he thinks she's being ridiculous, but in a good way, in a responsible way, in a parental way.  
  
"Did Sandy talk to you, about later tonight?" Kirsten asks, her voice low. It's an unsaid understanding that Seth still isn't aware of Dawn's revelation.  
  
Ryan nods, looks down at his lap. "I told him not to worry about it until Seth feels better."  
  
Kirsten grips the wheel of her car a little harder. Before Ryan came, she had the luxury of being the quiet one, the one who got to sit back and pick and chose what conversations to get involved in. Trying to pry words out of Sandy or Seth is never a problem; they provide a detailed analysis of everything, whether or not they are prompted or encouraged.  
  
Ryan makes it so hard.  
  
"Ryan, don't minimize what happened yesterday. You are very important to Sandy and me. We're going to support you every step of the way, ok? You want our help, right? You do understand that this is something that you need help with, don't you? This is why you live with us Ryan, so you can have the support of a family. You don't have to go through this all by yourself."  
  
Kirsten relaxes her hands. Sandy would be so proud of her. She's actually quite proud of herself.  
  
Ryan takes a deep breath, looks out the window, and then turns to Kirsten. The teenager seems to be fortifying himself before speaking and Kirsten holds her breath, sensing that Ryan's about to open up a little part of himself to her.  
  
"Sometimes I'm not sure where I..."  
  
"MOM!" Seth yells for Kirsten, interrupting Ryan and making the two front seat passengers jump a little.  
  
"Pull over mom," Seth says urgently. "I'm gonna puke."  
  
"Ryan, grab that bucket please." A blanket and pillow are not the only items that Kirsten was smart enough to pick up on her way out of the house this morning.  
  
Ryan scrambles into the back seat, carefully trying to avoid Seth's body while putting himself into a position where he can assist his foster brother.  
  
"Right here Seth," Ryan directs Seth's head over the bucket and grimaces as the all too familiar sounds and smells of vomiting permeate the Rover.  
  
Kirsten concentrates on driving while sneaking nervous glances into the rear-view mirror.  
  
"Kirsten," Ryan voice is panicky and she locks eyes with him in the mirror.  
  
"It's red," he says quickly.  
  
Oh God, Kirsten concludes, Seth's vomiting blood. She switches to the right lane and calculates the quickest route back to HOAG.  
  
"Mom," Seth groans.  
  
"It's all right Seth," Kirsten tries to assure both her son and herself. "Seth, does your stomach hurt honey? Are you having any sharp pains?"  
  
"It's stick-man Stan," Seth mutters, goes back to a prone position, "I shouldn't have eaten his legs."  
  
"What?" Ryan asks, his face full of confusion.  
  
Kirsten blows out a relieved breath. "It's red Jell-O Ryan, not blood."  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
Sandy throws his briefcase into the backseat of his BMW.  
  
His client has settled.  
  
He cannot fathom what has just happened. All that pre-trial work, all those hours of cajoling the partners, and stroking the client's ego, and staying at work instead of driving home to his family at a decent dinner hour.  
  
All that up in smoke.  
  
Gone.  
  
He skipped being with Seth just to rush over to the courthouse to hear his client casually say, "You know, I've been thinking about it, I'd rather just settle. It's not worth the time and aggravation for me to show up and be trapped in a courtroom. Just go in there and get a decent settlement agreement Cohen."  
  
"Fine," Sandy had simply replied. When Rachel had questioned him on why he was rolling over so easily he had told her, "Why the hell not? What difference does it make? None of this makes a difference."  
  
The afternoon heat has turned the sedan into a sauna and Sandy angrily rips off his tie and throws it on the empty passenger seat.  
  
As he exits the courthouse parking lot, he realizes that he forgot to call Ed Carden this morning. He doesn't particularly want to talk to the guy, but he gave his word he'd call.  
  
"Oh crap," Sandy says aloud. He jacks up the air conditioner and reaches for his cell phone.  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
Ryan spends the rest of the trip home in the back seat holding the bucket of vomit. Kirsten told him to put it down, but the thought of regurgitated Jell-O spilling over on the Rover's floorboards is enough to make Ryan hang on to the mess. After a few minutes his nose barely registers the smell.  
  
Kirsten looks over her shoulder occasionally and smiles at him. Ryan tries to pretend he doesn't notice.  
  
He almost told her.  
  
He almost told her that sometimes he doesn't know where he fits in, or even if he fits in.  
  
That sometimes he wants to be a Cohen but he's not sure if they want him permanently. He knows he's high maintenance. People, like a few teachers, a random coach or a neighbor or Theresa's family, other people have tried to help before. But in the end, they drift away.  
  
Too many fights, too few words, one Dawn or Trey appearance too many.  
  
In the end, the well-meaning people all just drift away.  
  
Think of little reasons to hate them. Stop talking, get angry, punch with less force than you are capable of but enough to scare, push over a school desk, stop answering knocks at the door, fake apathy. It numbs the inevitable.  
  
"We're here Ryan," Kirsten says softy and Ryan feels the jerk of the vehicle as it climbs the driveway.  
  
"Seth," Ryan nudges his foster brother, "Wake up, we're at your house."  
  
"I'm just going to sleep here for a little while," Seth mumbles. He's a new superhero, Leadman. His body is made of lead. He's sure that if he were to fall into a large body of water at this very moment, he would sink straight to the bottom.  
  
"No, Seth," Ryan persists, "You have to get up man, it's too hot to sleep in the car."  
  
"I don't think I can move Ryan," Seth confesses. "But don't tell mom, she'll probably call the National Guard or Flight For Life."  
  
Ryan gets out of the Rover, pulls Kirsten aside.  
  
"Seth's um, a little embarrassed to, you know, look all...in front of you, so, I'll help him out and meet you inside."  
  
Kirsten manages to translate the disjointed sentence. She gets the message, peeks into the vehicle. "Are you sure you can handle it Ryan?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm good."  
  
"Ok," Kirsten says doubtfully, "Call me if you need anything."  
  
"Yep," Ryan nods once, waits for her to enter the house and climbs into the backseat of the car.  
  
"Come on Seth, I'm going to carry you."  
  
"What? No, no way Ryan." Seth cringes, and manages to sit upright. "No way, man. I'm still clinging to a minuscule amount of my dignity."  
  
"Dignity, Seth? Get real. You just threw up Jell-O named Stan. Now let's go. I've done this a million times, it's no big deal."  
  
"That was one of your mysterious references that you have no intention of elaborating on, isn't it?" Seth murmurs. His throat hurts so bad that it's hard to talk. But it's hard not to talk when you are Seth Cohen. He's so very displeased with the mono.  
  
Seth feels himself being eased out of the Rover and then Ryan's arms are on the back of his shoulders and under his knees. Seth keeps his eyes closed as he is lifted up. It's somehow better that way.  
  
"God, this is the most embarrassing moment of my life," the sick teenager laments.  
  
"I doubt that," Ryan ribs quietly.  
  
Seth is heavier than he looks. Ryan attempts to shift his foster brother's weight to a more comfortable position. It's awkward, this forced physical closeness with Seth. The water polo team would be wagging their tongues with false assumption if they could only witness what was taking place._ "Knew those guys were gay."  
_  
Seth groans in defeat, lays his head on Ryan's shoulder.  
  
"Well, maybe the fourth most embarrassing thing," Seth admits. "And you're not hearing the top three."  
  
Ryan smiles to himself.  
  
He maneuvers Seth through the doorway. Thank god Kirsten left the front door open.  
  
"I'm sure I already heard them," Ryan sighs. "In painstaking detail. I'm putting you on the couch now Seth."  
  
Seth opens his eyes as Ryan settles him on the sofa.  
  
"Thanks man," Seth smiles up at him.  
  
That's what brothers are for, Ryan reasons. Carry Trey when he's drunk, or beat up, or passed out from something he took too much of. Or maybe that's what sons are for, to carry mothers who are too drunk and shouldn't be driving. Or possibly that's what sort-of boyfriends are for, carrying an unconscious girl who can't even list all the reasons she would rather self- destruct than face reality.  
  
Ryan flicks Seth playfully on the side of the head, but realizes when Seth doesn't attempt to avoid the assault that this kid really is not at the top of his game. Seth shivers, sending Ryan into action. He reaches for a throw on the couch, but instead goes upstairs, retrieves Seth's favorite pillow and blanket off his bed, grabs some mouthwash, and a pair of Seth's ridiculous gray wool socks that the boy wears around the house when the temperature dips into the low 60's.  
  
Returning to the living room, Ryan finds his foster brother curled up on the couch, his arms wrapped around his mid-section.  
  
He places the blanket on Seth, helps the sick teenager raise his head as he eases the pillow underneath it.  
  
"Mouthwash?" Ryan asks. He's relatively sure that stick-man Stan tasted much worse coming up than he did going down.  
  
But Seth shakes his head no.  
  
"Do you need anything else Seth?" Ryan asks.  
  
_"Do you need anything else mom?"  
_  
_He's ten. His dad is in jail. His mom is on the couch, hung-over. Trey showed him how to smoke pot last night. It took him three tries before he was able to figure out how to inhale. It hurt. He was out until 3 in the morning. When he got home, Dawn was so drunk she thought he had come back from school. Trey took off to find someone with a car to drive him to White Castle. He still hasn't come back. Ryan's throat is burning from the weed. He wants a coke, but they only have beer and a can of frozen orange concentrate in the fridge. It's not made yet. Because while everyone drinks it, Ryan is evidently the only brain surgeon in the house who has solved the great mystery of how to open up a can, add water and give birth to orange juice. He's the only one who ever fucking makes it. "Can I have some juice baby?" His mom mutters. And of course, Ryan immediately gets it._  
  
Seth coughs, moans a little bit. Ryan puts a reassuring hand on the Seth's shoulder.  
  
"Do you need anything else Seth?"  
  
"No, thanks man, for everything Ryan." Seth's voice is low; Ryan has to lean over to hear the end of the comment.  
  
"I'm glad you're home Seth." Ryan tells him. But the teenager has already started to drift off to sleep.  
  
It doesn't matter if Seth heard him.  
  
It's the thought that counts.  
  
Ryan goes off in search of Kirsten and finds her in the kitchen, inventorying all of the items her husband was supposed to bring home for their son.  
  
"Well, it's hard to stay mad at a man who buys multiple boxes of Popsicles just so his son can have ten blue ones," Kirsten comments as she pulls her head out of the freezer. "Hope you like orange and green Ryan, you have about thirty of them to eat."  
  
"I'm all about the orange," he tells her. "You're on your own with the green though."  
  
"I'll make Sandy eat the green," Kirsten decides. "Or maybe I can make margaritas out of them. Seth all settled?"  
  
Ryan nods, reaches for an orange Popsicle. Kirsten slaps his hand.  
  
"You need to eat something healthy Ryan. Let me get Seth a drink and then I'm making us...well, why don't you make us something healthy while I wait on Seth. Make whatever you feel like eating," she waves a hand at him.  
  
Ryan reaches for a pan and Kirsten asks, "Ryan, in the car, right before Seth got sick, I think you were going to tell me something. We have a second now. I'd like to finish our conversation."  
  
"Is grilled cheese ok?" Ryan replies.  
  
"Ryan, the car?" Kirsten leads, not buying into the teen's verbal curve ball.  
  
"I don't remember what I was saying." Ryan answers, distracts himself by searching in a drawer for a spatula.  
  
"Grilled cheese is fine," Kirsten gives up quietly.  
  
Disappointed, she goes into the living room to check on Seth.  
  
Ryan makes it so hard sometimes.  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
To be continued..........


	6. Best of Intentions Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Hobby, yes. Ownership, no.  
  
Author's Notes: Fun chapter to write. Hope everyone likes it.  
  
You know, you spend time writing something and that's rewarding. But when you actually get feedback, and people let you know that they are reading it and enjoying it, that's just such a nice feeling. Thank you everyone for taking the time to read and review. Two snaps to **crashcmb**, the wonder-beta.  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
Best of Intentions  
  
Chapter Five  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
When Ed Carden answers his phone he sounds strange, dazed. Sandy wonders if the man isn't slowly losing it. He wouldn't blame Carden if he were.  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't call earlier," Sandy tries to muster an apology. He's still pissed off at Ed for last night's deplorable behavior and has no intention of groveling. "Things got crazy at the hospital and it was one thing after another."  
  
"I want a paternity test," Carden blurts out, doesn't even bother to address Sandy formally, "Tomorrow; I found a place, it won't take long."  
  
"Whoa," Sandy tries to drive his car and react at the same time. "Hang on one minute Ed. If this is about me not calling sooner, I said I'm sorry about that. Let's talk about this, think about what to do, think about what's best for Ryan. I don't think we need to skip from A to Z just yet."  
  
"I understand, Mr. Cohen, that you're Ryan's legal guardian and have control over things at this moment, so please just let me know right now whether or not you intend to comply with my request. I've already contacted an attorney."  
  
"Really Ed," Sandy rebounds, dusting off the very skills that got him hired at the most prestigious law firm in Newport Beach, "Did you inform your attorney that last night you entered my home under false pretences and lured an underage child into a private vehicle without the consent of his guardians?"  
  
"You can't stop this Sandy," Ed says quietly. "You can only slow it down."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Sandy strains to keep his temper in check, "You just stand the hell back Ed and watch exactly what I'm capable of doing."  
  
"Ryan called me today," Ed calculates each word with precision. "He misses his mother, did you know that? I know a few things Sandy. I know that Seth is coming home and I know that you went to work today instead of staying with your family."  
  
Sandy snaps his phone shut and throws it on the floor of his car. "Goddammit," he yells out of anger and frustration.  
  
The phone bounces several times before it comes to a stop.  
  
--------------------------------------

They eat their grilled cheese sandwiches in silence, partly because it's what they both prefer and partly because neither knows what to say to the other. It's a vicious cycle really, being a dedicated introvert.  
  
Kirsten finally comes up with, "That was delicious Ryan, honestly. I was so hungry. That hit the spot."  
  
"I'll get the dishes," he answers, and leans over the breakfast bar to collect his foster mother's plate.  
  
The meal has provided Kirsten with renewed energy. She gathers up her mental reserves and jumps back into the trenches.  
  
"Did you remember yet, what you were about to tell me in the car Ryan?"  
  
He clangs a cup into the dishwasher.  
  
The phone rings and Ryan jumps for it. He says hello, and then immediately passes it to Kirsten. "It's Mr. Nichol," he informs her.  
  
By the time Kirsten updates Caleb on Seth's condition and assures her father for the fifth time that he can stay in New York and finish his business, Ryan has long since cleaned up the kitchen and has exited into the living room.  
  
She finds him sitting on the floor; at the foot of the couch Seth is lying down on, watching TV while her son sleeps. Déjà vu, reflects Kirsten. This is where it all started Thursday, same two boys, same couch, and same house. But the family she felt confident was forming yesterday feels a little bit looser today, the fabric not so tightly knit. She can't help but shake the nagging sensation that the whole thing is about to unravel.  
  
--------------------------------------  
  
Ed Carden calls his newly hired attorney, informs him of Sandy Cohen's response.  
  
"I told you this wasn't going to be easy Mr. Carden," the lawyer reminds Ed. "Sandy Cohen's name, or at the very least his wife's, is known up and down the coast. If this kid is yours, he's stumbled into some serious dough. These people know how to play in the big leagues."  
  
"They can't buy my child," Carden warns. "I don't care who they are."  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
Seth is awake and putting his best foot forward to eat some broth. He makes a face at the bland substance. This shit is most decidedly not worth the effort of swallowing.  
  
"Dad bought Popsicles," Seth conspiratorially whispers to Ryan in a scratchy voice. "Blue Popsicles. Go get me one."  
  
"Can't," Ryan points to Seth's soup, "Kirsten said you have to eat that first."  
  
"I want a blue Popsicle Ryan. Come on dude, I won't be deterred, let's talk cash."  
  
"Nope," Ryan holds strong, "Eat your lukewarm chicken water."  
  
The front door opens and then slams shut with more force than Ryan thinks he's ever heard at the Cohen home.  
  
"Court must have been a bitch," Seth surmises.  
  
"Ryan!" Ryan hears Sandy shout his name. The teenager tenses.  
  
"Or maybe not court." Seth hastily puts down his soup and scrambles to pull his blanket up to his chin.  
  
"I'm asleep," Seth announces promptly.  
  
"Sandy," Kirsten's voice carries from the foyer, "What's going on?"  
  
"Where's Ryan?" Sandy doesn't answer her question, stays focused.  
  
"He's with Seth in the living room."  
  
The voices are getting closer. Ryan springs up and casts a nervous glance towards Seth. Seth shrugs, confused, buries himself in his blanket like a human mole.  
  
As the Cohens enter the room, Kirsten repeats her question to her husband. "Sandy, what's going on?"  
  
"I need to talk to you. Now Ryan." Sandy stares at the teen, again ignores his wife's question and his supposedly sleeping son on the couch.  
  
"Ok," Ryan answers quickly, drops his head and makes for the kitchen.  
  
"Outside," Sandy directs the teen.  
  
"Ok," Ryan repeats, changes directions slightly.  
  
"Dad?" Seth sits up, attempting to get a handle on his father's uncharacteristic mood swing.  
  
What in the hell is going on with his dad? Who replaced The Sandy Cohen with The Incredible Hulk?  
  
"Welcome home Seth," Sandy manages a stiff greeting before stomping out after Ryan, leaving in his wake a stunned wife and a confused son.  
  
"Mom?" Seth looks bewilderedly at Kirsten for answers.  
  
"Eat your soup Seth," she tells him.  
  
--------------------------------------------  
  
Sandy is barely out the patio door before he accuses, "Did you call Ed Carden, Ryan?"  
  
"What?" Ryan stammers, shifting his eyes between Sandy and the ground.  
  
"You heard me Ryan, so just answer the question. Did you call Ed Carden?" Sandy repeats his inquiry, his volume gaining momentum and urgency, "Did you pick up a phone and call Ed Carden?"  
  
"Yes," Ryan mutters, drops his head and wraps his arms around his stomach as if he's trying to keep himself from coming apart.  
  
"Why?" Sandy struggles to remain in control. He needs to understand why this child continues to passively defy him at every turn, why Ryan chooses to overlook Sandy's authority whenever the teenager deems it appropriate.  
  
"Why would you call that man behind my back, Ryan? Why would you call the same man who put us through hell last night while Seth was so sick? Why would you do that, Ryan?"  
  
Ryan stares at the concrete, keeps his head down.  
  
"No," Sandy takes a step forward, shakes his head back and forth. "Not this time Ryan, no justifying your answers with silence. This is too important. You look me in the face and you answer me right now. Why did you go behind my back and call that man? I told you we would take care of it tonight, together."  
  
"I wanted to handle it Sandy," Ryan answers softly. "Seth was sick and you didn't get any sleep and Kirsten was already stressed."  
  
Ryan holds onto himself tighter but raises his eyes to meet his foster father's.  
  
"I'm sorry," the teen's voice quivers. He takes several steps backwards, putting further distance between himself and Sandy. "I wanted to handle it. I thought I was helping."  
  
"Ryan," Kirsten steps through the open back door and joins them. "Seth's worried. He knows something's wrong. I think it's time that you catch him up on what's going on."  
  
"Ok," the boy nods quickly.  
  
As the teenager advances towards the relative safety of the house, he steals uncertain glances at Sandy. His foster father is standing more or less in front of the door, blocking Ryan's entrance.  
  
"Come here Ryan," Kirsten says softly in an effort to encourage the skittish teenager. She holds a hand out and places herself between her husband and Ryan, allowing the boy to bypass the simmering lawyer.  
  
Kirsten squeezes Ryan's arm as he walks into the house and closes the patio door behind him.  
  
"God Sandy," Kirsten looks at her husband with reproach but her voice is calm, measured. "Are you listening to how Ryan's talking, do you see what his body is doing? Honey, he's scared of you."  
  
Sandy looks out at the ocean, his back to her.  
  
"Sandy, how do you expect Ryan to choose us," Kirsten finally expresses the fear that neither one of them has been willing to say aloud, "if this is the best we can do for him?"  
  
When her husband doesn't answer she adds, "I think you should get some sleep Sandy. Don't come out of that bedroom and talk to either one of these boys until you're ready to apologize."  
  
Kirsten walks back into the kitchen.  
  
Sandy watches the waves crest, break, and then lap up onto the shore.  
  
---------------------------------  
  
To be continued......


	7. Best of Intentions Chapter Six

**Disclaimer**: I would like to own it. Does that count? I would feed it everyday and make sure it had fresh water.  
  
**Author's Note**: Ok guys, couple of very important things we have to do before we read. First, give yourselves a big round of applause. (Yes, including you **monroe**, trying to hide in the corner, you did good.) Why are we clapping? Because as a collective group, we, meaning you folks, kick review ass! Oh, yeah. Step back. I have the BEST review posse in the west. (Probably all four cardinal directions but only west rhymes.)  
  
**Antigone**, **romie**: I will not be held accountable for your medical conditions. Hypertension aside, I'm glad you are reading **antigone**, I was hoping you were along for this ride. And **romie**, you had me thinking the boy was dead, so no sympathy at all for you.  
  
**ben**: Wow, thanks.  
  
So many awesome reviews to list, I'm seriously blown away.  
  
Oh, and **shelbecat**: interesting choice of words to call Ed. I think you might have ESP.  
  
I have to give a co-author on this chapter to **crashcmb** the wonder-beta. Such a challenge for me, writing a speaking Ryan. I much prefer to keep him in the corner mute and brooding. But he had to talk, and she encouraged and helped. Cause that what she does. She's the wonder-beta. I bow before her greatness.  
  
As always, thank you for reading.  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
Best of Intentions  
  
Chapter 6  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
Ryan comes racing into the living room, arms wrapped around his mid-section, his breathing uneven and rapid.  
  
Seth practically spills his bowl of chicken broth in an effort to clear it off his lap.  
  
"Ryan, dude, what in the hell was all that about?"  
  
"I don't know," Ryan shakes his head nervously. "I don't know Seth. I think your dad's pissed."  
  
"Do ya THINK?" Seth responds open-mouthed.  
  
Ryan slowly paces the room, twitches his hands, and sneaks apprehensive looks in the direction of the kitchen.  
  
"I don't know," Ryan says indecisively. "I think I should take off for a little while."  
  
"No!" Seth grimaces, his throat aching from the effort. He feels like shit. Sitting up for these past twenty minutes has worn him out. But something is clearly wrong with his foster brother. Ryan doesn't do nervous unless he absolutely has something to be nervous about.  
  
"I'm gonna take off for a little while," Ryan repeats more to himself than Seth.  
  
Alarmed, Seth props himself up a little higher on the pillows.  
  
"No, Ryan, Ryan...Ryan! Know what? Man, my dad gets pissed off all the time, he just hides it from you, because you're still kind of new. This is a good sign, really. Dad's so relaxed around you, that he can be his usual raging self. Mom's next, watch out for flying vases. And you haven't even had a chance to see my Grandpa in action."  
  
Ryan continues his methodical pacing, back and forth in front of Seth, fists opening and closing, opening and closing.  
  
"And you know what Ryan?" Seth continues, desperately trying to distract Ryan with the only tool available to him, "I get crazy mad angry too. I do. I got kicked out of my kindergarten circle for multiple displays of blind fury. Banned, exiled."  
  
"I think I should leave," Ryan mutters.  
  
Seth's not sure that Ryan is even listening to a single word he's saying. He switches his approach. Lots of words aren't slowing Ryan down. Time for a road less traveled. Think, think, think, Seth chastises himself. Think of one word to make Ryan stop pacing and calm down.  
  
Back and forth Ryan goes in front of Seth. Someone should call Guinness. The guy is trying to set a pacing record.  
  
Seth rolodexes through a dozen smart-ass remarks he's accumulated throughout the years, before he gives up and yells, "Stop!" as effectively as his abused throat will allow.  
  
Ryan's movements cease. He blinks at Seth.  
  
Seth grimaces, coughs, holds out a twirling finger. "Ryan, man, just slow down dude. Stop a minute and tell me what the hell is going on with you."  
  
Ryan starts to speak, falters and then manages, "I don't know how."  
  
Ryan's admission strikes Seth mute. How can someone not know how to explain something? Is that even possible?  
  
Seth regroups.  
  
"Ok, that's... perfectly normal. Why don't you start by sitting down? You could sit down...and then we can figure out why...you can't...figure out what's wrong."  
  
"I know what's wrong," Ryan impatiently insists, resumes wriggling his hands, tugging at his leather wristcuff. "I just don't know how to tell you."  
  
"Right," Seth shakes his head, "I knew that."  
  
Seth's head is killing him. He's hot and cold all at the same time and that damn chicken soup is clucking in his belly. His dad's not the only thing bubbling with anger in the house. His own body is attempting a mutiny. Out of the corner of his eye, Seth sees his mom start to come into the room and then quickly back off. Ryan is clueless to her almost entrance.  
  
"You know what Ryan? You need to sit down, you're making me dizzy."  
  
Ryan shuffles his weight back and forth, undecided, fists opening and closing but slowing down, just a little bit. Seth notices the slight change in Ryan's demeanor and hopes that his words are starting to sink in.  
  
"Ryan, please man. Don't bail. Just sit down. I want to help you but I can't do it if you keep moving around. Dad could never be mad enough at you that he would want you to leave the house. Please, sit down."  
  
Ryan's movements ease off a little more. He glances towards the kitchen, and then towards Seth.  
  
"Come on buddy. Just, right there on the floor," Seth urges, points at the carpet. "Right there big guy." Suddenly his foster brother is a stray puppy, enticed into submission by scraps of verbal directions.  
  
Sit Ryan, good boy.  
  
Ryan nods slightly and plops down, drops his head and then raises it to look at Seth.  
  
Uh-oh, Seth realizes. Ryan appears to actually be looking to him for guidance. The normally independent teen has picked a hell of a time for let's-trade-places.  
  
"Excellent," Seth praises Ryan's decision. He motions with his finger, "So, you could just...take your best shot at explaining what's wrong, and if I don't understand what you're saying, we'll try again? How's that sound Ryan?"  
  
Seth smiles, nods his head in an attempt to pacify the other teenager. God his throat hurts. He's so fucking selfish. Ryan's in crisis and all he can think about is sleeping.  
  
Seth's brain wants to help, come through for his best friend. His body wants to pass out.  
  
Ryan's looking around, doing that eye-shifting thing that reminds Seth of a twitchy Winona Ryder at her shoplifting trial. The youngest Cohen feels like he's suddenly an instructor at _Happy Times Day Care_. Only a seriously twisted version, like maybe _Ryan's Going A Little Bit Nuts ToDay Care_.  
  
"Dude," Seth gently presses, "Please talk to me. Tell me what's going on."  
  
Ryan takes a deep breath, lowers his head and wraps his arms around his legs; seems to gather himself in preparation to say something.  
  
But instead, he just sits there.  
  
"It's ok Ryan," Seth assures him.  
  
The room has suddenly been vacuumed of all non-essential air. Seth can hear himself breathing; hear Ryan's frustration in the small puffs of air the teen is emitting. Seth's blanket is strangling his body, like a woolen anaconda. He kicks it off, runs his fingers through his sweaty hair.  
  
"Ryan, it's just you and me man. Everything's cool."  
  
Ryan looks at Seth, nods and Seth knows he's finally gotten through.  
  
Seth clears his throat, "It's ok Ryan," he repeats. "Just tell me what's going on."  
  
And so Ryan starts talking.  
  
"This guy . . . came to the house last night and said he worked with Sandy and I figured he did. He knew you were sick Seth. And he talked with your dad on the phone. He brought me to the hospital to see you. But when Sandy saw us together, he got pretty upset. Your dad told me to go into the hospital to see you. But then I had to go back to the car for a CD and I heard Sandy sayin' something to this guy. Your dad sounded pretty pissed."  
  
Ryan's hands are clutching his forearms. To Seth, the teenager resembles a human ball of twine and his mannerisms remind Seth of when Ryan first came to Newport, when everything was so unfamiliar and so uncertain.  
  
Ryan's voice gets softer, smaller. He puts his hand on his forehead, braces the position with an elbow on a knee.  
  
"Next thing I know, he's saying something about this guy maybe bein' my dad," Ryan sneaks a peek at Seth. After a long, quiet pause, he continues. "I don't know man, I freaked, so I took off. Your mom found me and brought me back so I could see you. 'Cause... I really just needed to see you and make sure you were okay. You scared the shit out of all of us Seth."  
  
Ryan falters and seems to lose momentum, takes another deep breath before continuing. "Then, when I found a note from the guy with his number, I called him. I had to call him. I had to know if my mom was telling the truth yesterday, about this guy being my dad. And I was trying to help. Things are nuts right now Seth, with you being in the hospital. I...I didn't want Sandy and Kirsten to have to deal with my family bullshit on top of everything else. But this guy must have told your dad 'cause now Sandy knows I called him and he's really pissed at me."  
  
Ryan stops abruptly, studies his foster brother intently for a reaction.  
  
"And that's why your dad's really pissed at me Seth."  
  
Seth wonders if Ryan hasn't used up the remaining oxygen.

For a second he can't breath.  
  
For a second, he doesn't want to breath.  
  
In shock, all the sick teen can manage is a rushed, exaggerated, "Ohhh- kaayy."  
  
Seth bobs his head up and down.  
  
"Ok, all-righty then, Ryan. That was good, very impressive for a first- time out. Surprisingly enough I understood that." But...not...really, Seth finishes the sentence silently.  
  
"All I do is fuck things up," Ryan mutters and drops his head.  
  
'Understood that,' Seth thinks to himself and suddenly he's content again with the mono and all of its miserable side effects.  
  
Shit.  
  
What... in... the... hell?  
  
Ryan's got another dad?  
  
There are bigger issues than his imperfect health going on in Casa de Cohen today.  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
To be continued..........


	8. Best if Intentions Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own the OC. If I did, you know who would not be leaving you know where to go live with you know who, you know where. And...you know who would have brought a whole lot more water on his you know what.

Author's Notes: So, I think this chapter is going to maybe not go over so well. How's that for a positive send off! But, can't change these things. So, even if you hate it, hope you enjoy it.

As always, thank you so much for all the support and wonderful reviews. When I wrote this story I kept thinking it was boring and uninteresting and one or two loyal readers might take pity and keep posting reviews but everyone else would just quietly fade away. Everytime I get an author alert I am just thrilled that people are staying with me and giving my story a chance to develop. I really appreciate it.

Hi **crashcmb**. Everyone say hi to **crashcmb** the incredible beta/therapist. Girl should get paid.

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Best of Intentions  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
-------------------------------------------  
  
Kirsten waits until the boys are silent before she enters the living room. Somehow, Seth did it. He's sick and he's lagging, but somehow he's managed to more or less diffuse Ryan. These two children possess a bond that transcends most siblings; she could never comprehend Hailey the way that Seth seems to innately understand Ryan.  
  
"Hey," Kirsten says quietly, walks over to the couch and puts her hand on Seth's forehead. "Feeling pretty hot there guy."  
  
Seth's gazes up at his mother and then casts an anxious glance to where Ryan sits sullen on the floor. His foster brother hasn't moved or spoken since his strange outburst a few minutes ago. Seth wonders if Ryan hasn't used up his maximum daily word usage allotment.  
  
"I'm relatively sure Mom," the teen turns his attention back to Kirsten, big brown eyes twinkling with a combination of mischief and worry, "What you meant to say was that I'm looking pretty hot."  
  
'Mom?' Seth mouths questioningly. She puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder before moving towards Ryan.  
  
"Ryan," Kirsten walks closer to the sitting teen and squats down. "Sandy hasn't gotten enough sleep today. He's in time-out."  
  
Ryan lifts his head but doesn't look directly at Kirsten. It's obvious that the teenager is struggling to hold back his emotions, his eyes watery, his breathing fast.  
  
"Why don't you run down to your room, grab a pillow and blanket, hang out in here with Seth," she suggests to the distraught teen. "I think we could all use some down time."  
  
She wants Ryan to stay by Seth, close his eyes, and just sleep. Go to sleep in the living room, stay away from the pool house and the seclusion that it represents, stay close to them.  
  
He nods, stands up, quietly excuses himself.  
  
Kirsten resists the urge to follow him, make sure he doesn't walk off their property, accidentally wander out of Newport.  
  
Trust.  
  
She has to trust Ryan.  
  
"Mom," Seth tries to sit sideways on the couch but gives up. Defeated he slumps back down on his pillow.  
  
"I don't understand what's happening."  
  
He sounds so lost and so confused that Kirsten has to bite back tears. Poor Seth. In an effort to shelter him, they've moved on without him, left him behind.  
  
"Mom, does Ryan have a dad that Dad forgot to tell us about?"  
  
Kirsten shakes her head. "Not really Seth, your dad just found out yesterday. Dawn called him at the office."  
  
"And the guy came to the house?"  
  
"Yes," Kirsten confirms.  
  
"And Dad is mad at Ryan for calling the guy?"  
  
"Seth," Kirsten answers, "Your dad's not mad at Ryan."  
  
Your dad's not mad, he's scared, thinks Kirsten. He's worried for Ryan.  
  
"So...I go into the hospital for one day and Ryan picks up a new father."  
  
"Evidently," Kirsten concurs.  
  
"Huh," Seth comments. "And here I thought I was the center of attention."  
  
Mother and son sit in silence. What the hell is there to say?  
  
But Seth finds something.  
  
"Mom."  
  
Kirsten smiles sadly. "What sweetie?"  
  
"I think I'm gonna be sick."  
  
------------------------------------------------------  
  
Ed Carden gives up all hope of contacting Dawn Atwood. She's not going to answer her phone. He has no way of knowing if she's still even in Chino. If by some miracle Ryan does contact him again, Ed now knows he will have to break his promise of taking the teen to see his mother. He's barely known about this kid twenty-four hours and Ed realizes that he has already joined the list of adults who have let Ryan down.  
  
Speaking of mistakes.  
  
God, what was he thinking, playing his trump card on Cohen, exposing Ryan's phone calls? He let Sandy Cohen get his goat. He allowed his own anger and need to have the last word jeopardize his only chance of having an independent relationship with Ryan. From here on out, he'll be lucky if he can get within fifty feet of the kid without a court injunction. And those things take time, and time is what Ed has very little of.  
  
He's already missed sixteen years.  
  
Ed looks at his watch. Carol and the kids will be here before the night is done.  
  
Josh and Brad will make things right.  
  
His boys always make things right, always calm him down, always remind him that he's a good person, with people that love him and depend on him.  
  
He's made some good choices in his life, he's done some things right.  
  
Ed goes out on the balcony of his hotel and waits for his family to arrive.  
  
--------------------------------------  
  
Seth is dead to the world but Ryan is just lying there, eyes open, watching the wall. He's lying down because Kirsten asked him to, and at that particular moment, he had absolutely no idea what else to do.  
  
He still doesn't.  
  
Seth is wiped. Ryan thinks to himself that if he and Sandy don't stop this shit, Seth's going to end up back in the hospital. They're stressing the youngest Cohen out. He's already puked up the chicken soup, although Seth was gracious enough to blame it on a bad bullion cube and not Ryan's confusing behavior or Sandy's uncharacteristic display of anger.  
  
Kirsten is on her way to her bedroom.  
  
Sandy's there.  
  
Ryan heard the lawyer come back into the house and Kirsten quietly tell him that she would join him in a few minutes.  
  
Ryan's got to give the Cohens credit. At least when one of them is bonkers, the other is in control. Wasn't like that at his house growing up, where both parents or one parent and one boyfriend managed to be simultaneously dysfunctional.  
  
He decides to close his eyes, wait for Kirsten to come to the living room.  
  
Ryan wants to ask her something.  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
Kirsten slowly pushes her bedroom door open. Sandy is lying on his side of the bed, his forearm over his eyes.  
  
"I did not handle that well," he reflects quietly.  
  
Kirsten lies down beside him. "No," she agrees. "You did not."  
  
"Ed Carden has hired a lawyer Kirsten, he's demanding paternity testing."  
  
"We knew that might happen Sandy," Kirsten says, hoping to take some edge off the revelation, hoping her husband didn't hear her voice catch in her throat after he told her.  
  
"Is Ryan all right?" Sandy asks.  
  
"I think so," Kristen conjectures. "It's hard to say. He's shut down again."  
  
"Is Seth ok?" Sandy realizes that he didn't even stop to ask Seth how the trip home from the hospital went, or how he was feeling, or if he liked the blue Popsicles.  
  
"He's asleep." Kirsten leaves out the part about the vomiting. She's sure Seth will give Sandy a blow-by-blow account of the entire breakdown of his bodily functions once the tension in the house gives way.  
  
Sandy's quiet, motionless, a remorseful human paperweight. Kirsten waits in the silence, staring at the ceiling.  
  
Eventually, her husband comes around, tries to explain himself.  
  
"We may lose Ryan, Kirsten," Sandy takes his arm off his eyes and turns his head towards his wife. "This situation is getting serious. Ed Carden is moving fast, he's not messing around. I've seen some seriously screwed up decisions in my time when it comes to child custody cases. If Carden gets lucky, gets a sympathetic judge, I can't promise that Ryan won't be taken from us. Our custodial rights are iffy at best. Hell, Dawn could probably get Ryan back at the drop of a hat, if she wanted to. We only have him because his mother was willing to appoint us Ryan's legal guardians. Dawn would stand a better chance of retaining custody than us; at least she's a biological parent."  
  
Kirsten snuggles closer to him, lays her head on his chest.  
  
"I think you're tired Sandy, and I think you are painting a worse-case scenario. I can't believe any judge in the world would place an almost-grown teenager with a man he barely knows."  
  
Sandy shakes his head, "Kirsten, I've see the courts return custody to parents released from jail after serving time for killing their spouses. If Carden's background checks out, then we're talking about a career military man, recently widowed and raising two young children, wanting to make amends for a mistake he never knew he made. The guy's going to come off looking like a freaking Hallmark card, Kirsten."  
  
"What about what Ryan wants?" Kirsten asks. "I thought that when kids get older, the courts tend to let them decide for themselves which parent to live with."  
  
Sandy returns his forearm to his face, again covering his eyes. "Ryan's record with juvie complicates things, casts doubts on his ability to make decisions that are in his best interests. I can just see some crackpot judge deciding that a military influence is just what Ryan needs. I've got a bad feeling honey, and you can chalk it up to paranoia and stress if you want to, but I can't help but feel like we may end up losing him."  
  
"Have some faith in Ryan, Sandy," Kirsten urges her husband. "It doesn't matter what Ed Carden decides to try and do, we'll never really lose Ryan."  
  
--------------------------------------------  
  
California.  
  
Ed has missed it all these years.  
  
It was his last gasp at enjoying life without meaningful bills and responsibilities and people that needed him to be somewhere at some certain time, doing some certain thing.  
  
He leans on the balcony railing and wonders if, all those years ago, whether or not he tried hard enough to convince Dawn to leave Russell. God, he was so young. No experience in the world. His small town upbringing left him ill equipped to deal with an affair with a married woman, a married woman with a small child, a married woman with an abusive husband.  
  
He should have tried harder. He should have been more of a man. He left California to enlist in the Air Force, become a man, when the whole time, he should have stayed in Fresno and tried harder.  
  
He had a chance to be a man in Fresno.  
  
Instead he ran away.  
  
He couldn't save Dawn. He didn't really even try.  
  
He has no intention of making the same mistake with Ryan.  
  
Ed's done running.  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
When Kirsten returns from her bedroom, Ryan is waiting for her, sitting in the kitchen, drinking a glass of juice.  
  
"I never had fresh orange juice until I moved here, we only had the stuff out of a can."  
  
Kirsten comes around the corner of the breakfast bar, leans her elbows on it. Waits for Ryan to continue talking, hopes he will.  
  
"I've always loved orange juice, but I never knew it could taste so good." He swirls the glass in front of him, takes another sip.  
  
"I've learned about a lot of things since I've come here," he tells Kirsten.  
  
"So have we Ryan," she returns the thought.  
  
"I'm a little confused about things right now," Ryan confesses.  
  
"I think we all are Ryan," Kirsten assures him.  
  
"Can you..." he stops, seems to lose his train of thought, and then continues. "I was wondering if I could call that guy and maybe meet him somewhere?"  
  
"I don't think so Ryan," Kirsten shakes her head no, "Not tonight. I don't think rushing things is going to help anyone."  
  
"Would you go tonight?" Ryan manages to look Kirsten in the face. "If you hadn't seen your mom in months and some guy pops up and says that he is your father and he knows where your mom is....wouldn't you have some questions? How long would you wait to go and find out the answers?"  
  
When Kirsten doesn't answer his question, Ryan quietly adds, "I've already waited a day. You don't know how hard it was for me to do that. If I was still in Chino, I wouldn't have waited. But I promised you guys I would listen, and I'm trying, but you don't know hard it is for me to wait."  
  
"Yes I do Ryan," Kirsten corrects him, "I just needed you to remind me."  
  
"I'm sorry," Ryan apologizes, sets his glass down. "I'm trying not to be disrespectful, but I feel like if I don't get out of here and see this guy, I'm going to..." Ryan shakes his head slightly, looks off, and doesn't finish his thought. Kirsten's not all together sure she wants him to.  
  
"I can call a cab," the boy problem-solves. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. I have to go see this guy." Ryan drops his head. "I don't know. My mom...I can't believe she dumped this on you and Sandy."  
  
Ryan hesitates before looking up and adding, "I think I should go see this guy. I think if I meet with him, he'll leave you guys alone."  
  
Ryan stands up. "I'll call a cab."  
  
"Wait please, I'd like to come with you Ryan," Kirsten replies, surprising herself with the impulsive suggestion. "I'm not comfortable with you going alone."  
  
"What about Seth?" Ryan asks guiltily. "You should stay with Seth."  
  
"Seth would want me to go with you," Kirsten counters.  
  
Ryan nods, concedes her point.  
  
"If you feel like you have to do this tonight Ryan, then that's what we'll do. I'm going to go tell Sandy, I'll be back in a minute."  
  
Kirsten excuses herself and returns to the bedroom.  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
With the balcony door closed, Ed almost doesn't hear the phone. By the time he gets to it, it's on the fourth ring.  
  
"Hello?" He rushes out.  
  
"I can meet you."  
  
"Ryan?" Ed asks in astonishment. "Are you kidding me? Do the Cohens know?"  
  
"Yeah," Ryan responds quietly. "Um, Kirsten's coming with me."  
  
Ed glances at his watch. He has plenty of time before Carol and the kids arrive from Illinois.  
  
He rattles off the name of his hotel and the address.  
  
"They have a good restaurant," he tells Ryan. "Since I don't know the area very well, do you think you and Mrs. Cohen could come here?"  
  
"I'll check with Kirsten," Ryan answers.  
  
They agree on a time and Ryan promises to call back if there is a problem.  
  
Ed hangs up in utter disbelief.  
  
--------------------------------------------  
  
"You what?" Sandy sits up straight in bed. "You told him that you would do what?"  
  
His wife changes into fresh jeans and a dressier blouse.  
  
"I told Ryan I would take him to meet Ed Carden."  
  
"Kirsten," Sandy stands up, "Are you serious? Did you not hear what I just said a few minutes ago? This guy isn't playing around, honey. He's talking paternity testing. Tomorrow. He's hired a lawyer. There is no way in hell that you and Ryan are walking out of this house to meet this guy."  
  
"I'd like your support on this Sandy and quite frankly, Ryan needs it," Kirsten ignores her husband's outburst, reaches into the closet for a pair of shoes.  
  
"No!" Sandy spouts. "This isn't a movie of the week Kirsten. This guy isn't going to meet you, realize that Ryan is in a loving home and suddenly abandon all hope and desire to gain custody. He wants this kid Kirsten; I can feel it in my bones. You are delivering Ryan to him."  
  
"You and Ed Carden need to get over yourselves." Kirsten brushes past her husband, digs for a missing shoe under their bed. "Ryan is almost seventeen years old Sandy. He's going to do whatever he damn well wants to do no matter whatever decision you, or Ed Carden, or any judge comes to. The best we can do for Ryan is be here for him and help him through whatever this is. Besides Sandy, who are we to determine when and if Ryan has any contact with this man? If you would just stop and remove yourself from the situation one second, you'll realize that Ed Carden has been just as blindsided as the rest of us. No one here needs to be the bad guy Sandy. Ryan is so confused right now, and he's being pulled in a hundred different directions. Are you even thinking about Ryan's emotional needs? Or are you so caught up in knowing what's best for him that you forgot to ask Ryan himself?"  
  
Kirsten pauses, sighs, and places her shoes on her feet.  
  
"This child survived a long time on his own Sandy, without us. You can't expect him to just sit back and allow you to make all the decisions. He has to have some control over things Sandy, or he's going to tell us all to go to hell and disappear, and I for one will not be responsible for that happening. Ryan wants to meet with Ed Carden and I'm taking him. Go and take care of your sick son. He's due for a dose of Motrin. I'm calling every half-hour to check-in."  
  
Kirsten marches determinedly out of her bedroom.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
"Seth," Ryan shakes the sick boy's shoulder.  
  
"Hmmmm," Seth mumbles a response. Not a single inch of him moves.  
  
"I'm going to take off for a while," Ryan informs him. "Your mom's going to take me to see that guy I told you about."  
  
Seth grinds his head into the pillow, wills himself to stay awake and answer Ryan.  
  
"Are you coming back?" Seth pries open one eye, lasers it on Ryan.  
  
"Yeah," Ryan assures him. "Yeah, of course."  
  
"Then I'll just stay here." Seth drifts away.  
  
Ryan sits down. Looks around the room. Listens to Seth sleep.  
  
Waits for Kirsten.  
  
When she comes to gather him, she asks Ryan, "Ready to go?"  
  
What should he tell her?  
  
Yes.  
  
No.  
  
Maybe.  
  
_I'll never be ready to go, ever.  
  
From the moment I walked into this house, and saw what was here, and who was here and what Seth has and what he takes for granted and what I've always wanted. I gave up my mom and my brother and what I thought was my father and Theresa and my freedom and Chino. And if this guy turns out to be my dad, I'll give him up too.  
  
To be here._

_I never want to go._

Ryan doesn't answer her.  
  
He just moves in the direction of the door.  
  
--------------------------------------  
  
To be continued..........


	9. Best of Intentions Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer:** Dear Josh, please sue **romie** first. She has lots more money, is heavily medicated and owns several things that not only plug in, but also can evidently be used when one is camping.

**Author's note:** Wow, I guess chapter seven went over ok. Cool. You guys are the best. The reviews have been fantastic. Unbelievable really. I cannot tell you how satisfying it is when people pick out little things that I remember spending time on. Thank you. I appreciate the time and effort it takes to read and then review. And of course, thank you to the beta with the keyboard made of patience, **crashcmb**, who is trying to explain to me the difference between she and her. (Proper pronoun use...huh? What's that? Is that important?)

Quick reminder, this story takes place fairly soon after The Escape. Ryan has only been with the Cohens a few months.

Now, on with the drama. And this is drama. Old school, over-the-top, angst-oh-rama-drama. Sigh.

---------------------------------------------

Best of Intentions

Chapter 8

----------------------------------------------

Sandy stands by the couch and watches Seth sleep. He simply cannot fathom that Kirsten actually took Ryan to meet with Ed Carden.

What is she thinking?

She's not thinking.

She's catering to Ryan's impulsive whims instead of considering long-term consequences. They need to cut off all contact with Carden. The man is unpredictable and possibly unstable. Maybe Ed Carden hiring a lawyer is the best thing that could have happened. Sandy would prefer to handle things informally for Ryan's sake, but if Ed wants to jack things up a notch, he's picked the wrong guy to mess with.

From the moment he met Ryan, Sandy has wanted to protect this kid, change his life, hit a rewind button, shift reality.

No one is screwing with Ryan. Not Julie Cooper or Dawn or some man who emerges from nowhere adding another layer of havoc on Ryan's already complicated existence. Things are just starting to settle down for Ryan. Sandy's seeing easy smiles, relaxed banter, real confidence slowly replacing survival fronting.

No one is screwing with this kid.

----------------------------------------------

Kirsten checks the directions to Ed Carden's hotel. She realizes that her hands are shaking with the adrenaline surge still waning from her argument with Sandy. She wonders if Ryan heard any of it.

Kirsten's cell phone rings and she asks Ryan to dig it out of her purse. She doesn't have to look at the caller ID display to know that it's her husband. Sandy never gives up if he thinks he's in the right, especially if it has to do with his family.

"Hi honey," she answers, trying to sound as if her huffy departure from the house is no longer an issue.

"Kirsten, please turn the car around."

Kirsten takes a deep breath. She wishes that Sandy were shouting or overtly angry. But instead, his voice is filled with concern, his request a subtle plea more than a straightforward demand.

"Sandy, we've already discussed this." Kirsten keeps her voice even, but Ryan has already turned his head towards her, watching her. She smiles tentatively at the teenager.

"What we had hardly qualifies as a discussion Kirsten. What you are doing is not in Ryan's best interests. Please, turn the car around."

"Sandy..." Kirsten starts to defend her position but he interrupts her.

"I don't tell you how to build houses Kirsten, please don't ignore my expertise on this. Ed Carden is the one who insisted on bringing the legal system into this, not me. But he's taken this measure and we need to respond accordingly and that does not include allowing Ryan to see this guy. Before Ed went and hired a lawyer, maybe I would have been comfortable with a visit like this. But now, no way. Honey, please, turn the car around. I don't want you or Ryan near this man. Let me finish the background investigation before we allow Ed Carden access to Ryan."

Kirsten bites her bottom lip, sneaks a glance at Ryan. He's watching her intently, depending on her to follow through on her promise to take him to see a stranger that is very likely his biological father.

"I'll call you back in a few minutes," she tells Sandy and hangs up.

Kirsten pulls into a fast food parking lot, and turns off the car's engine.

"We aren't going, are we?" Ryan asks, his voice flat.

It would be easier, Kirsten thinks, if the boy acted or sounded upset. Ryan's lack of emotion has been a difficult thing for Kirsten to adjust to after living for so many years with Seth and Sandy. Seth would have started arguing before she even entered the parking lot. She can deal with a ridiculously emotional teenager. Ryan's quiet disappointment is unnerving.

"Sandy thinks it's a bad idea, Ryan. He wants us to come home."

Ryan turns his head from her, presses his forehead against the car window.

"Sandy only wants to protect you Ryan. Give us a few days to get to know Mr. Carden better, then we can arrange a meeting that Sandy is comfortable with."

"He's leaving in a few days," Ryan says softly.

"I know," Kirsten nods, "but he'll come back Ryan. It's obvious he wants to get to know you. Let Sandy set up a meeting. Mr. Carden will come back for it."

"I thought you understood." Ryan keeps his head pushed against the glass pane. His voice is so low that Kirsten has to concentrate just to differentiate all of the teen's words. "I thought you said you understood why I wanted to see him."

"I do understand Ryan," Kirsten tries to convey her sympathy to Ryan's cause. "That's what's making all of this so hard for me. I understand Sandy's concerns and I understand your frustration."

When Ryan doesn't respond, Kirsten excuses herself and steps outside the car. She presses redial and waits for Sandy to answer.

There is no right decision to make.

She's stuck in the middle of a no-win situation.

------------------------------------------

Sandy gently nudges Seth's shoulder.

"Seth," he says quietly, "wake up son, it's time for some Motrin."

Seth ignores his father, burrows deeper into his blanket.

"Seth, come on," Sandy pulls off the blanket. "Two minutes Seth, then you can go back to sleep."

Seth groans, doesn't move. Sandy reaches to shift his son into a sitting position and stops when his hand comes into contact with Seth's forehead.

Seth is burning up again.

Reaching for a thermometer, Sandy checks his son's temperature. Shit, 102.3. He goes to the kitchen and looks for Seth's discharge papers from the hospital. The doctor mentioned a checklist of mononucleosis complications. Sure enough, an increase in body temperature is number three, right after sharp stomach pains and severe nausea.

Crap, Sandy thinks. This is all they need. He calls the nurse's hotline listed at the bottom of the paper and explains Seth's situation to the woman that answers. She recommends Motrin along with a lukewarm bath and lots of fluids. If Seth's temperature isn't lower in an hour, she advises, contact the treating physician at HOAG. Sandy thanks her, hangs up, and goes back into the living room. Seth hasn't stirred from his self-made cocoon.

"Seth," Sandy lightly jars his son's shoulder, "wake-up son."

Seth turns his head away from his father, nestles further into his pillow and asks a muffled, "Didn't Mom put you in time-out?"

"I have a temporary reprieve," Sandy tells him. "Evidently she values your health needs over my incarceration."

"That's too bad," Seth gripes, pulls the blanket over his head.

Sandy sighs and pulls the cover back down. "Seth, your temperature is back up. We need to deal with it now unless you want to end up back in the emergency room."

Seth nods but doesn't make an effort to move.

"Seth?" Sandy shakes his son's arm. "Can you sit up for me son?"

"No." Seth states bluntly. "Go away. Leave me alone. Let me die in peace."

"Sorry," Sandy says. "Can't let that happen on my shift, your mother will never let me hear the end of it."

When Seth doesn't respond, Sandy pulls the blanket off completely.

"I don't feel good Dad, leave me alone," Seth pleads, his voice retaining the scratchy quality it has had since yesterday.

"I know," Sandy sympathizes, "but we have to stay one step ahead of this fever, so let's go. I'm going to help you get in the bath."

"Oh God," Seth moans. "Tell me I did not just hear the words help and bath in the same sentence. Dad," he whines, "just leave me alone."

Sandy gives up trying to reason with his son and starts to haul Seth up and off the couch. He somehow manages to get the young man more or less upright and in a semi-standing position. Sandy can't help but think to himself how much easier the whole process would be if Ryan were here to help.

Seth groans and leans his head back against his father's chest. "I feel like shit," he informs his father. Sandy doesn't bother to correct his son's language. His declaration seems fitting given Seth's appearance and apparent level of misery.

As Sandy starts to steer the slumping teenager towards the bathtub, the phone rings.

Sandy has no choice but to ignore it. He's afraid if he stops to answer the phone, he won't be able to get Seth off the couch again. As it is, Sandy's barely maintaining his son's rag doll weight. God, when did Seth get so damn tall and heavy? How the hell did that happen?

He and Seth are just out of the living room when he hears Kirsten leave an answer to his previous request on the answering machine.

"_I made Ryan a promise Sandy, right or wrong, I can't break it. This is too important to him honey. I love you."_

-------------------------------------------------

Kirsten pushes the end button on her phone. Strange that Sandy didn't answer. He seemed determined to convince her to come home.

She takes a moment to study Ryan sitting inside the Rover. He's so quiet and seemingly detached from everything, everyone. Kirsten wonders just what in the hell is going on inside the kid's head. He mentioned wanting some questions answered, most specifically a desire to find out where Dawn was. Kirsten opens the Rover door, climbs back in and asks Ryan, " Did you know that Mr. Carden is insisting on paternity testing Ryan? I think that's what has Sandy so upset. Maybe we should go back to the house and you can explain to Sandy why you think it's important to meet with Ed Carden."

"Just forget it." Ryan replies coldly.

"Ryan," Kirsten tries to ignore the teen's response. "Do you want to see Mr. Carden to ask him where your mother is or do you want to ask him about whether or not he could be your father?"

For the first time since this madness started, Kirsten hears the teenager's voice take on a hateful, jaded tone. "Couple of winner questions, huh? You and Sandy must be so proud."

Kirsten puts her hand on Ryan's shoulder, "Ryan I didn't mean to make you feel..."

Ryan shakes his head. "It doesn't matter," he says monotone, the previous flash of emotion already faded. "We should go back to Seth. I should have never made you leave Seth."

"Ryan," Kirsten says somewhat in disbelief, "you didn't make me leave Seth. I asked to come. You needed me and I wanted to be here for you. That's why I left the house tonight. You do understand that Ryan, don't you? Yes, I'm worried about Seth, but I want to be here with you, helping you tonight."

Ryan shakes his head again, returns his stare to the passenger window.

"Ryan," Kirsten shifts tactics to try and get the kid to talk. She asks softly, "What were you going to tell me today, in the car, before Seth got sick?"

When Ryan yet again ignores the question, Kirsten starts the car, tells him, "I know why you make it so hard Ryan. It's taken me months, but I've finally figured it out."

Kirsten pulls the car back onto the road, resumes driving in the direction of Ed Carden's hotel.

As they drive, Kirsten asks, "How old were you Ryan, when you decided that talking was useless because no one was listening to what you had to say?"

The teenager maintains his gaze out the window of the vehicle.

Kirsten drives in silence towards the hotel, waiting for an answer she doubts will come and praying that she is doing the right thing for Ryan.

--------------------------------------

Seth sits in the bathtub, mortified. He's managed to talk his father into allowing him to keep his boxers on, but bobbing in a tub while your father sits on the toilet, playing lifeguard, is pretty much the ultimate humiliation.

"This water's too cold," he gripes with an exaggerated shiver. "I'm freezing to death."

Sandy looks up from a magazine. "The nurse said lukewarm Seth."

"Warm," Seth counters, "I'm thinking it's the warm that you forgot to bring to this party."

Sandy goes back to the article he is pretending to read.

"Are you mad at Ryan?" Seth asks, grimacing at the effort of trying to continue a conversation.

"No," Sandy replies, his eyes still focused on the magazine.

"You slammed the front door." Seth persists. "You made him step outside the classroom into the hall so you could yell at him."

"I never yelled at him Seth." Sandy sighs, puts down his magazine.

"He was really freaked out Dad, more than I've ever seen him." Seth coughs, moans and tips the back of his head against the cool tile that surrounds the shower. He closes his eyes, suggests to his father, "Maybe you shouldn't not yell at Ryan anymore."

-----------------------------------------

Kirsten pulls into the hotel parking lot. She leaves the engine running, asks Ryan, "Do you still want to do this?"

Ryan stares out the window.

No, he doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to be in a parking lot of a hotel, deciding whether or not to go in and meet some guy that may be his father because his mother evidently slept around when she wasn't changing Trey's diapers.

No, he doesn't want to be curious about this guy. And he doesn't want to still care whether or not his mom is alive, and how she is.

But he is curious and he does care.

And he wants this guy to just disappear and at the same time, he wants this guy to stay and tell him the truth.

Ryan presses his forehead against the passenger seat window, rolls it back and forth. He can't organize his thoughts. They're hopping around in his head like a frog on a hot skillet.

"Ryan?"

He can see Kirsten's blurred reflection in the window. Watching him. Waiting for him.

"I'm never sure where I belong." Ryan blurts out, glances sideways at Kirsten, "In the car today, I was going to tell you that, but then Seth got sick."

Kirsten sits silently, absorbing the long awaited confession.

"Is it something we've done?" she cringes, anticipating a negative answer while simultaneously thanking God that Ryan has finally confided in her.

"We can fix it together Ryan, all of us, we can make it better, if it's something we've done to make you feel this way."

"No," Ryan shakes his head, gives her another side-glance, lowers his head. "You and Sandy...have been ...you've done more for me than anyone ever has. But you can't understand, I'm sorry. Seth's never come home and then turned around because he doesn't want to deal with the hassle of going into his own house and you've never taken your boyfriend's word over your kid's and Seth's never slept in the car because it's the best available option. I've never left Seth at a party because I'm too high to remember that I brought him. But my mom leaving that note and just taking off, that's too messed up, even for us, even for her. This whole thing, with my mom's old boyfriend or whatever he is...at least before I knew who my dad was. Now ...." He turns back towards the window, doesn't finish the sentence.

Kirsten's not sure what to say. He's right. She can't relate. She's always been either a Nichol or a Cohen. She's always had someone waiting for her at home. She's always known where she belongs, or at the very least with who.

"Do you think meeting Ed Carden is going to help you figure things out Ryan?"

He shrugs, "I don't know. I can't think straight." A quiet, "It can't get any worse."

The irony of his prediction makes Kirsten take a deep breath. Sandy thinks it can indeed get worse. Ryan has a right to know.

"Ryan, Sandy thinks that Ed Carden is going to pursue primary custodial rights. That's why he's so concerned. That's why he didn't want us to come and meet Ed Carden tonight."

"Why would he want to do that?" Ryan asks with confusion. "I thought this guy already had kids. That doesn't make any sense."

"Sandy and I have a kid too," Kirsten, reminds him, "That hasn't stopped us from wanting you to be a part of our family."

"I was only supposed to spend the weekend with you," Ryan says quietly, turns back to the window. "I can't even believe that you are still letting me stay with you. You and Sandy are just too nice to kick me out."

Kirsten sits dumbfounded for a moment. How can this kid's perception of his place in her family be so skewed? How long has he been wondering whether or not they even want him living with them? All these months, has he just assumed that he's the recipient of forced charity? Or has the situation with Ed Carden confused Ryan, made him second-guess himself and his role in their family? What more can she and Sandy do to prove to this child that they want the opportunity to love him?

"Ryan, you're wrong. Your living with us was something we all wanted. Sandy, Seth and I, we all want you with us. How long have you been feeling this way?"

Ryan sits silently, his hands in his lap. He's already said too much. Too little sleep has turned him into a fucking head case. It doesn't matter anyway. Kirsten's not going to tell him the truth. She and Sandy aren't programmed for mean.

"Thank you for driving me here," he mutters, cast another series of quick tentative side-glances at Kirsten and then opens his car door. One more flashflood glance, "Thank you for listening."

Kirsten sits in the driver's seat and realizes that she is still griping the steering wheel.

Sandy assumes that Ed is going to try to steal Ryan out from under them.

It's going to break her husband's heart if Ryan ends up leaving them instead by merely walking away, in search of a family where he feels he belongs.

--------------------------------------------

To be continued..........


	10. Best of Intentions Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: I do not own the OC. Yet. But I'm saving up.

Author's Note: When I get this story done, I'm doing nothing but The Funny for two months straight. Seriously. This is just getting silly. But I can't stop myself. I blame it all on my childhood, as I did grow up a poor white boy on the streets of Chino.

This chapter is dedicated to **ben**. Look twice at that attachment I sent you **ben**. Chapter nine, not eight, nine. Have some faith. I take care of my boy Seth.

Thanks all, for the reading and the reviewing.

Thanks **crashcmb**, for the reading, and the reviewing, and the betaing, and the re-reading, and the re-reviewing, etc....

-----------------------------------------

Best of Intentions

Chapter Nine

------------------------------------------

Sandy allows Seth some privacy while the boy dries off and changes into pajamas.

Privacy.

Basically defined as Sandy sitting outside of Seth's bedroom, the door slightly ajar, listening for signs of Seth passing out or vomiting. He had some serious doubts about leaving his son alone after Seth asked why he couldn't go to sleep in wet boxers.

It's been five minutes and Sandy's patience is all used up. He enters Seth's room half expecting to see his son lying on the floor. Instead, Seth is on his bed, sporting fresh pajama pants and a t-shirt, and whispering in Captain Oats' ear. He looks up at his father, slightly embarrassed, and puts the horse back down on his nightstand.

"Everything go ok?" Sandy asks, skipping the opportunity to razz Seth about his preoccupation with the plastic pet.

"Yep," Seth manages to croak out. He's clearly wiped out after the bath and struggling to keep his eyes open. "I uh, even gargled, although it was disgusting. I don't think Listerine even tastes as bad as salt."

Sandy nods in sympathy, walks over to Seth's bed and puts his hand on his son's forehead. Seth feels a little cooler but Sandy would prefer a more accurate reading.

"I'm going to run and get the thermometer," he tells his son. "Do you want anything to eat? You must be a little hungry."

Seth calculates his chances of getting anything other than that god-awful soup his mother keeps trying to force into him. His dad's a pushover. This shouldn't be too hard.

"Blue Popsicle?" Seth frowns and motions to his throat in an attempt to drive home the point that he is suffering greatly due to the mono.

"Sure," Sandy readily agrees.

Seth turns his head and smiles a wickedly Grinchy grin.

-----------------------------------------

As they enter the hotel's restaurant, Kirsten asks Ryan, "Do you see him?"

Ryan points to a corner table where a gentleman sits alone, only the side of his head visible to them.

For the first time, Kirsten gets a chance to see the man that is a possible threat to her new family.

She's disappointed that he looks normal, mundane, and average. She realizes that she was hoping for a pressed military uniform, something that would make Ed appear cold, authoritarian, and distant.

Instead, he's dressed in jeans and a navy blue Henley. When he turns, spots them, and stands up to face them, Kirsten instantly knows why Sandy is so sure that this man is Ryan's father.

It's the eyes.

Ryan has his eyes.

"Wait here," she smiles at the teenager. "I'll be right back."

Ryan looks at her questioningly and Kirsten adds, "Trust me."

The teenager nods and steps back. He sits down on a chair right outside the restaurant and studies the carpet.

Kirsten approaches Ed Carden slowly. She doesn't have any idea what to say to the man. She had the whole drive to think of something.

Why didn't she plan something to say?

When she reaches the table, Ed extends his hand.

"Hi," he says quickly, "Ed Carden, and I'm assuming you are Kirsten Cohen."

"Yes," she answers softly, hesitates for a moment, and then shakes Ed's hand. "I asked Ryan to wait a second," she tells Ed. "I'd like just the two of us to talk for a moment."

"Of course," Ed instantly agrees, pulls out a chair for Kirsten. "Anything. I'm just amazed that you actually brought him. I've been sitting here for twenty minutes expecting you to call and cancel."

Kirsten settles herself in the chair. A waitress immediately descends and Kirsten orders a bottle of water. She waits until the waitress leaves before addressing Ed's admission.

"I almost didn't come, but I made Ryan a promise."

Ed nods and drops his head. He feels guilty. He made the kid a promise too, to take him to see his mother. In retrospect, it was a stupid thing to do. When he looks back up, Kirsten Cohen is watching him closely.

Ed's in the military.

He recognizes when he is being sized up.

-----------------------------------

Ryan peeks around the corner into the restaurant. Kirsten is staring at the guy and the guy is staring at Kirsten.

Motherfucker better not screw with Kirsten.

Ryan stands up, runs his fingers through his hair, and unconsciously pats his jeans for a pack of cigarettes that isn't there.

------------------------------------

It's more than just the eyes, Kirsten observes. It's other little things, like his nose, and his hands, and the way he diverts his eyes right after he says something. He's handsome in the same way Ryan is and he somehow manages to project the same mix of self-doubt and outward strength that Ryan possesses.

She wonders that if she just randomly met Ed Carden on the street, would she recognize the pieces of her foster son in this man? Or, would she walk right past him?

Kirsten clears her throat and begins. "Sandy told me you have two sons."

"Yes," Carden confirms.

"So do I," Kirsten states bluntly. "And before I bring one of them over here, I want your word that you will not do anything that will endanger this child."

Ed nods slowly.

"Mentally or physically," Kirsten adds.

Ed continues to nod, "I understand Mrs. Cohen. You have my word of honor. I'm sorry that things got so out of control yesterday. This has been quite traumatic for me and I just lost all common sense for a little while. But I promise, I only want to make sure that Ryan is safe."

"Then that's another thing we have in common," Kirsten informs him. She excuses herself to retrieve her foster son.

----------------------------------------

"Can I buy a mean Popsicle or what?" Sandy inquires of his sleepy son.

Seth nods, sinks a little deeper into his bed. His eyes are shut but he's still eating the frozen treat, his lips and tongue displaying a slightly bluish tinge.

"Seth, I can't let you fall asleep until I apologize for my behavior tonight."

"You should," Seth chastises. "That bath was cruel."

Sandy laughs but he sounds sad, "I'm not talking about the bath Seth."

"I know that," Seth says drowsily and bites off a chunk of Popsicle.

"This must all be a bit confusing for you Seth. I'm astounded you aren't drilling me for information."

Seth shrugs, makes a face and swallows.

"Do you want to ask me any questions Seth?" Sandy asks. This quieter, more sedate version of his son has Sandy slightly unbalanced. He's usually so comfortable with Seth. But the boy's recent health scare combined with Sandy's earlier behavior has the lawyer off his game.

"Did you lie to Ryan?" Seth asks in an accusatory tone. The scratchiness of his sore throat adds a level of harshness to the question. "In the hospital, I didn't understand why he was asking. But now I do." Seth opens his eyes, locks them with his father, tries to look defiant despite his vulnerable condition.

"Ryan asked me if you ever lied Dad, and I told him no. I defended you."

Sandy watches Seth carefully.

"So how long have you known about this guy, Dad, 'cause Ryan and Mom think you found out yesterday. Did you find out yesterday? Or have you know for a while?"

"Yes," Sandy responds, his heart hurting that Seth would even have this question and be so unsure of the answer. "Yes, I just found out yesterday Seth. Dawn called. A man came to my office. And then your mother called and told me she was taking you to the hospital Seth. That's the kind of day I had yesterday."

Seth considers his dad's answer. "Your day sucked too."

"You have no idea Seth," Sandy wearily affirms his son's declaration.

"Do you have any other questions?" Sandy asks his son.

"Nope," Seth hands a sticky lump of Popsicle remains over to his father. The teenager yawns and pulls his comforter up to his neck.

"You don't have any other questions about anything that has taken place with Ryan over the last twenty-four hours?" Sandy asks skeptically, gingerly trying to balance the melting Popsicle, keep it from running between his fingers.

Seth rolls over on his side, his back facing his father.

"Ryan will tell me everything when's he's ready," Seth mumbles.

He's almost asleep. Sandy recognizes the telltale signs.

This Seth is familiar. He used to carry the same one from the car after a late night out. Sandy closes his eyes and he can feel Seth's hands around his neck, little boy legs wrapped around his waist.

Once upon a time.

Things were simpler then.

Sandy almost tells his son that he's a good friend, that his steadfast faith in Ryan is admirable and his waiting for information a true sign of loyalty.

But something about that sentiment doesn't feel right.

Sandy turns off Seth's light, leaves the bedroom door open. He starts to walk down the hallway but then stops, turns around, and returns to his son's bedroom.

Sandy recognizes what was flawed in his thinking, Seth's not just Ryan's good friend anymore. Time is changing that. He can't be the only one that feels it happening.

He says into the darkened room, "You're a good brother Seth."

-------------------------------

Kirsten finds Ryan standing by the entrance of the restaurant.

"You ready for this?" she asks him.

"No," he answers with a shy smile.

She reaches under his elbow, guides him into the restaurant. "Neither am I, "she confides.

Months ago Ryan would have flinched at her touch. He's accepting it now, as they steer their way towards Ed Carden.

She told Carden she had two sons.

It felt good to say it.

It felt right, even if it was to a stranger.

Even if it doesn't feel right yet, to say it to Ryan.

Small steps.

The biggest houses she builds still start out with a simple frame.

------------------------------

Ed stands for the second time. Again, he pulls out Kirsten Cohen's chair.

She's beautiful, stunning really, and graceful.

Sara used to be this kind of beautiful, but time and age were starting to catch up with her. Too many hours of work, not enough exercise, the boys' needs overriding her own. She had taken on a new beauty to him, a more meaningful one.

Ryan sits down and Ed snaps back to the present, realizes that he is the only one still standing.

He finds his own chair and sits down.

The three of them sit in silence. Ed knows it's his place to begin. He's just not sure how in the hell to start the conversation.

Jesus, this kid looks like Brad. It's eerie, like taking a sneak peek into the future. He has to resist an urge to reach out and touch Ryan, affirm that the boy is real.

Ed takes a deep breath and purses his lips together. He's being such a goddamn baby. Suck it up and be a man, he tells himself. This is what you wanted. It's time to close the deal.

"Thank you for coming tonight Ryan," he starts off. "I appreciate the second chance and although I already apologized to you for last night, I want to reiterate that my actions were absolutely irresponsible and without honor."

Ed can't read whether or not his words have sunk in. The kid's head is down. Ed has to assume that Ryan is listening.

"And I obviously owe you an apology as well Mrs. Cohen, for what I put your family through during such a trying time, with your son in the hospital."

Kirsten at least acknowledges his words with a slight nod.

Tough crowd, Ed surmises. No wonder Sandy Cohen can talk circles around him. Living with these two, the guy must get in a lot of practice listening to his own voice.

Ed blows out a puff of air. "So as I was saying, I'm so sorry about last night and..."

"It's too late to see my mom tonight," Ryan interjects suddenly. "I don't want Kirsten in Chino this late. What time do you want to go tomorrow?"

"Um," Ed stammers. "I, uh..." He looks at Ryan in surprise. The kid stares back at him, indirectly though, with his face down and his eyes up.

The look, it reminds Ed of his oldest son Josh, at the funeral.

Just like Josh at the wake, just like Josh whenever anyone mentions his dead mother.

Ed still wonders, that look, is it anger or hate or both or neither. Maybe it's their way of controlling situations, or a coping mechanism, or a barrier.

"About that," Ed says slowly. It's his turn to drop his head. Ed gathers his thoughts, raises his head again, and tells Ryan, "We're probably going to have to put that visit on hold for now."

"You couldn't reach Dawn?" Kirsten asks. Ed swings his gaze in her direction. He had almost forgotten she was there.

He grimaces, tries to think of a delicate way to present Dawn's lack of motivation to intercede on behalf of her already neglected son.

Ryan spares Ed the trouble of concocting an alibi for Dawn.

"She doesn't want to see me," the boy states dully, drops his head.

Again, this kid and his timing. Ed swears the teen only speaks at peak points of tension.

Carden considers lying, telling Ryan that Dawn didn't answer her phone. But this kid's no idiot and he's obviously not naïve when it comes to Dawn's deficiencies as a parent.

"I think she's really, really overwhelmed right now Ryan." Ed hopes the kid buys it. He doubts he will.

"Yeah," Ryan retorts contemptuously. "I'm sure that's it."

"You know what?" Kirsten jumps into the fray, locks eyes with Ed. "I don't think this is an appropriate place to have this conversation. Could we possibly go somewhere more private?"

Ed immediately picks up on her concerns. Ryan's body is rigid. The one hand that is visible is bouncing a fork up and down.

"Absolutely." Ed answers. "We can go to my hotel room, if that's alright with you Mrs. Cohen."

Kirsten stands up, pulls at Ryan's upper arm. "We'll meet you in the lobby," she says.

"Come on Ryan," she urges the boy to stand up. The fork plunks down on the table.

Ed watches the two of them exit the restaurant. He calls the waitress over, tells her that dinner has been cancelled, gives her a tip, and apologizes for any inconvenience.

He manages a fake smile but drops it the minute the waitress leaves.

Shit, Ed thinks to himself, this kid is wound tighter than a marine.

Maybe Sandy Cohen was right about the jumping from A to Z thing.

----------------------------------------

Sandy calls a neighbor with a toddler, asks if she has an unused baby monitor he can borrow. She assures him that they do have an extra one, she'll send her husband over with it right away, wishes him good luck with Seth.

"Seth's such a friendly kid," she compliments Sandy. "He stops by and plays with Morgan every time we're in the front yard." Before she hangs up she adds, "I should have said both the boys are nice kids, Sandy. Ryan's just as sweet."

He thanks her and hangs up. She's a good neighbor.

He checks on Seth, takes his temperature for a second time since the bath and Motrin combo. It's positive news, 101.3, down even more than the first time. Seth doesn't stir despite Sandy's tugging at his ear.

Sandy wanders back into the living room. He phones Kirsten, but she doesn't answer and he doesn't bother to leave a message.

He's too late.

Kirsten must be sticking to her word. She really isn't coming home. She really brought Ryan to see Ed Carden.

The doorbell rings before Sandy can delve any further into his thoughts on Kirsten's actions. He answers it, thanks the husband for the monitor, places the listening device in Seth's room, puts the receiver unit next to the phone in the kitchen, makes a sandwich but doesn't eat it, drinks a beer, and waits for the rest of his family to come home.

------------------------------------

Ed Carden's hotel room is spotless. One king size bed, still made, a laptop sitting neatly on the single table in the room. Nothing else is out. Kirsten tries not to draw a connection between this room and the pool house.

Get a grip, she admonishes herself, tidiness isn't hereditary.

Ed closes the door behind them, pulls two chairs over from the table, and invites his guests to have a seat. He sits himself down at the foot of the bed.

"I uh, need to apologize again Ryan. I promised you a visit to your mom, and now it looks like that isn't going to happen. You must think I'm a real jerk, huh?"

Ryan picks at his nails. "Pretty much," he mutters and raises his head slightly.

Ed sighs. The eyes glaring through the bangs thing is back. This kid could teach Josh a thing or two about intimidating your adversary through mere eye contact.

--------------------------------

Kirsten watches Ed and Ryan interact.

This meeting is a disaster.

If Ryan came tonight hoping for some kind of resolution, it's obvious that it's going to take more than Ed's apologies to accomplish that. She wonders if Sandy would be satisfied, content to see Ryan dripping with disdain for this man. Or if her husband would be sad for Ryan, that yet another adult that could hold a meaningful connection to the teen is failing to do so.

Ryan's best interests, Kirsten reminds herself; this is about Ryan being at peace, not turning him off to Ed.

She swallows her first instinct to gather the teenager and take off for home. Instead, she says to Ed, "Could I possibly have a word alone with Ryan?"

Carden nods, steps into the hallway and leaves Kirsten with her foster son.

"Do you want to go or stay?" she asks Ryan.

"Stay." He answers.

"Then let's think of five questions you want to ask him," Kirsten suggests. "Maybe it will be a little easier to talk to him."

"I already know what I want to ask him," Ryan tells her quietly.

Kirsten stands up and asks Ryan, "I just sent the wrong person into the hallway, didn't I?"

Ryan drops his head, doesn't respond.

Kirsten opens the hotel room door, asks Ed to step back inside. As he passes her, she whispers, "You gave me your word."

Ed looks over his shoulder and sees the door close.

He's the one alone with Ryan now.

"How many times did you sleep with my mother?" Ryan asks, straightens his head and stares down Ed. "Didn't you care that she was married? Would you want someone doing that, sleeping with your wife?"

Carden takes a deep breath and sits down in the chair left vacant by Kirsten.

"Let me start from the beginning Ryan," Ed suggests.

"When I was eighteen, my sister and I moved to Fresno."

Ryan looks away and listens.

------------------------------------------

Kirsten paces in the corridor. She keeps waiting to hear furniture banging against the walls, or perhaps bodies. But no sound is coming from Ed Carden's hotel room. Ryan's either keeping his cool or beating the hell out of Carden quietly.

She shouldn't have left the two of them alone, but she did. Ryan wanted it and she gave in. Seth may be the master manipulator of the family but Ryan is a close second. Calculated or not, he often passively forces her and Sandy to react differently than they normally would, allow things to slide more than they ever would allow with Seth, extend boundaries further than boundaries should be extended for the average sixteen-year-old.

Kirsten convinces herself that they are so lenient with Ryan because he's so much more mature than Seth. But in reality she wonders if she and Sandy are afraid to lay down the law with their foster son, afraid that if they tighten the leash too much, they may wake up to find an empty pool house.

So many issues they still need to tackle as a family. Ryan's insecurity about his place with them is only the tip of the iceberg.  
-----------------------------------

Ed omits a few things, skims over several more.

Something tells Ed that Ryan is damn well aware of the drinking, physical abuse and drug usage that plagued his parents in Fresno. Those elements aren't crucial to the story. He tells Ryan that he loved Dawn, that he wanted her to come and live with him, that Dawn was good with Trey, she loved her family. It only takes Ed ten minutes to relate the entire edited history of him and Dawn Atwood. He fills a few more minutes updating Ryan on what he has done since he left Fresno, the military, his sons, Sara's recent death.

The fact that Ryan didn't utter a single word, let alone make any attempt to interrupt him, has Ed wondering if the kid has ice in his veins instead of blood.

But a funny thing has happened. The teenager actually seems more relaxed than when Ed started talking. Ed assumed that Ryan would become increasingly agitated with the details of the affair, but he's received the news with complete apathy.

"Ryan," Ed leans into the boy's personal space, tries to get the teenager to focus in on him. "I just threw a lot of information in your direction. Is there anything else I can tell you?"

"Why did you tell Sandy I called you?" Ryan's question is full of controlled anger.

"That was a mistake," Ed admits. "One of many I've made concerning this entire situation. That's the last time though that I reveal anything that we talk about to anyone. I want you to feel like you can trust me."

Ryan doesn't acknowledge Ed's admission.

"Do you have my mom's address and phone number?"

Ed walks over to the closet, digs a piece of paper out of his briefcase, and hands it to Ryan. The teenager shoves it into his pocket, murmurs a barely audible, "Thanks."

"You must have a few questions Ryan. This must all seem surreal to you. If I'm having trouble as an adult processing all of it, I can't imagine how it is that you are keeping yourself so composed. Don't you have anything you want to ask me? Can you tell me a little about yourself? Can you tell me what you think about all this?"

"Why do you want a paternity test?" Ryan's voice is flat. He's still looking the opposite direction of Ed. "You should drop that, it's pissing Sandy off."

"Don't you want to know the truth Ryan?" Ed inquires. He sits back down in the chair next to the teen. "We can't live in this limbo of not knowing. At least I can't live like that. If you are my son, I need to step up to the plate and take responsibility. I would have done that years ago if I had known about you. And I know you're my son Ryan. I've thought that since the first time I saw your picture. And last night, at the Cohens' house, any doubts I still had flew out the window the moment I met you."

Carden is too close. The teenager needs space. Ryan stands up, cautiously wanders over to the balcony, and glimpses out the sliding glass door.

"It doesn't make any difference," Ryan speaks softly. "Even if I am your kid, what the hell difference does it make? It doesn't change anything."

Carden puts his hands in his lap, rubs them nervously. This is the moment he's been waiting for since Thursday afternoon, when Dawn showed him the picture, told him that she had given their child away. He wasn't halfway out of Chino before he even started to think about this.

"I'd like you to consider living with me and my family Ryan. Dawn deprived me of the opportunity to be your father Ryan, and that wasn't fair to either of us. This is our chance to make it right."

"I don't even know you," Ryan scoffs, sounding more irritated than angry. "Why would I want to live with you?"

Ed's ready for this. He's rehearsed his comeback a million times. He wishes that Kristen Cohen hadn't come tonight. After meeting her, his resolve is a bit weaker than it had been when an aggressive Sandy Cohen was the only one standing in his way of persuading Ryan to leave the Cohen home.

"You didn't know the Cohens either Ryan, when you first went to live with them. Your mother just left you there, with strangers. She told me that she called a cab and walked away. But you dealt with it, didn't you Ryan. That's because you're a survivor. And the Cohens are nice and generous, and after meeting them both, it's obvious to me that they care a great deal for you. But blood is blood Ryan. And if you could start over with the Cohens, then there's no reason you can't make another fresh start with my family. Because let's face it Ryan, Sandy Cohen may be one hell of a guy, but in the end he's just your lawyer. I'm offering you a chance to live with people who are your real family. You should have been with me all your life Ryan. I would never leave one of my sons with strangers. And now that I've been lucky enough to discover you, I have no intention of just abandoning my responsibilities. I'm not calling a taxi and walking away from you Ryan. I'm not getting on an airplane and pretending you don't exist."

Ed watches Ryan for a reaction, but there isn't one. The teenager just keeps staring out the balcony door.

Kirsten Cohen is in the hallway, right outside his hotel room door. Ed promised her he would do the right thing for Ryan. And he's spent every moment since Dawn told him about this child trying to figure out what the right thing is. The right thing is for Ryan to live with his family, to be a part of something that is real, not contrived out of lack of options. Thank god Ryan met the Cohens. They filled a temporary void and they kept him safe.

But it's time for them to step aside and let this kid go where he belongs. Give him an opportunity to be a part of his family.

"You gave the Cohens a chance Ryan. All I want is for you to meet my family and at least consider the possibility of moving in with us. Please don't hold me responsible for Dawn's actions Ryan. The fact that she has kept you from me this long is tearing me up inside. To know that you brought a child into this world and that child has grown up in poverty and abuse, I cannot put into words how devastating that is. All I want from you Ryan is the chance that your mother robbed me of. The chance to be your father."

Ed's done talking.

There's nothing else to say.

The rest is up to Ryan.

--------------------------------------------

At the end of the hallway, the elevator opens up and a woman in jeans and a yellow t-shirt emerges. Behind her, two boys stumble out, each carrying a suitcase way too big for them. Both the kids have baseball caps on, one Cubs, one Cardinals. Their heads are down as they concentrate on not tripping over their burdens.

"You guys seriously need to eat more Wheaties," Kirsten hears the woman say playfully. The smaller of the boys gives up trying to drag the suitcase and drops it in the middle of the hallway.

"I surrender," he announces, takes off his baseball hat and throws it at the bigger boy who is still making a gallant effort to wrestle a suitcase into submission. The hat zooms past its intended victim and lands a few feet from Kirsten. She walks over and picks it up.

"Brad, quit it," the woman admonished. "Be nice, we're all tired."

The boy mutters an apology and runs after his hat.

When he reaches Kirsten, he holds out his hand in anticipation of regaining custody of his headgear. "Thanks lady," he says, happily emitting a huge smile.

Kirsten stares at the child, her mouth wide-open. He's all sandy blonde hair and sparkling blue-gray eyes.

His smile lights up his face.

Sandy was right.

It's amazing really.

Ed Carden's little boy does look just like Ryan.

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To be continued.................


	11. Best of Intentions Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: I'm too tired tonight to think of something clever. I do not own the OC.

Author's Note: One of the things I really appreciate about the reviews, are the clever and insightful ideas that people have come up with concerning how to make Ed go away. So far we have death by phone cord, Ed The Piñata, deployment to Iraq, (with the added bonus of the Cohens raising all of Ed's children) and pushing him off the balcony.

People, people, people. Poor Ed, he's so misunderstood.

Tip of the hat to Walter for recognizing a Steve Martin shout-out.

Everyone, thank you for reading and reviewing and making me laugh as I read the reviews, which I've decided, are infinitely more fun reading than this story was to write.

Oh, by the way, my fearless beta crashcmb tried to explain to me that I am using a plural noun as a verb and maybe I shouldn't do that. But in my world, it's interchangeable, so, you know. Yep. I apologize to crashcmb and English teachers everywhere.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Ten

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Ryan takes three deep breaths.

He has to get out of this room.

His head is spinning.

Sandy was right. He shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have been curious. He shouldn't have cared. He doesn't want to listen to another word about mistakes or hear another apology or think about anyone's dead wife. It's not his fault if this guy feels guilty. His mom did this to this guy, not him.

This is bullshit. This is not his fault. He's still cleaning up his mom's fucking messes.

The best thing she ever gave him was the Cohens.

And now she's going to fuck that up for him too.

"I have to go now," Ryan says quickly.

Jumping off the balcony isn't an option, where's the front door?

He steps around Ed, heads for the hotel door.

"Seth's still sick. I shouldn't have made Kirsten bring me here."

"Ryan?" Ed moves towards the teenager, surprised by the sudden burst of movement. "Hey, slow down. We're not done talking yet, are we? You've hardly said anything."

Ryan turns around to face Ed. "I gotta go," he repeats his intentions, spreads his arms out, hands palms up. "I'm really sorry that my mom... I'm sorry about what she did to you. You seem like a nice guy. And I'm sorry that your wife died. But I don't know who in the hell your are and I'm sure as hell not moving in with you, so, thanks for my mom's address, and uh, have a nice life."

Ryan reaches for the latch on the hotel door.

Ed tries to keep up with the teen's retreat but Ryan is almost out the door.

"So, walking away must be an Atwood trait," Ed grouses. "Because it's certainly not a Carden thing."

"Excuse me?" Ryan's voice rises in volume, as he turns back around to face Ed.

Ed runs his fingers through his hair. "Nothing." He waves a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Forget I said it. It was a stupid thing to say."

Ryan proceeds a little farther back into the room with several quick steps, his finger pointing accusingly at Carden.

"You lied to me last night, you've got the Cohens all freaked out when they're trying to deal with Seth, you don't even fucking know who I am and you're asking me to move in with you? You're lucky I'm not beating your ass down and then walking on top of it to get the hell out of here."

Ed remains silent, on guard.

Ryan shakes his head, his voice softens but his body remains tense. "I don't know what you think this is or what I owe you or what you owe me, but..." the teen stalls mid-sentence, gives up trying to explain himself to Carden. "I have to get out of here, now."

Ryan resumes his trek to the hotel room door and Ed claims beseechingly, "I'm only trying to do the right thing Ryan."

Ryan spins around, clenches his fists, his arms shaking with frustration.

"I'm trying to tell you. I don't need you to do the right thing," He looks at Ed, tells him forcefully, "The Cohens already did the right thing for you. I don't need you."

A knock on the hotel door interrupts Ryan, shoving a silence into the room.

"Ed?" Ryan hears a woman call from the hallway, "It's us, open up."

Ryan glances at the door and then returns his stare to Carden.

Ed says quietly, "I wanted to make sure tonight that you knew that I care that you exist."

Another knock, another, "Ed, open up."

"I need to get that," Ed says, pointing at the door.

Ryan steps back, allows Carden to move around him.

As Ed opens the door, he's bombarded with a chorus of, "Surprise!"

"Did we surprise you Dad?" Brad asks eagerly, jumping up and down in place.

"Yes," Ed nods, "Yes son, you sure did."

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Kirsten watches the entire thing unfold.

These children are most likely a part of Ryan. And they're clean, and they appear happy, and they aren't living in jail or drinking or carrying concealed weapons or excusing their decision to live with a cocaine dealer.

Kirsten is frozen to the spot, mesmerized by the younger one and his uncanny resemblance to her foster son.

She slowly walks up behind the small group as they stand in the doorway greeting Ed Carden. As the last child walks into the hotel room, Ed sees Kirsten and opens the door a little wider.

"I didn't think they would be here for hours," he tells her.

Kirsten thinks it sort of sounds like an apology.

Curious, Ed's sister Carol returns to the door. "Ed, who are you talking to?"

"Um, Carol, this is Kirsten Cohen. Mrs. Cohen, this is my sister Carol."

"Hi," Carol says, first looking confused, then switching quickly to embarrassed. "Oh God...Ed, did we interrupt something?"

"Not in the way you're thinking," Ed responds, invites Kirsten back in, and closes the door behind her.

Brad is bouncing on the king sized bed. "Do they have all the cable channels Dad?" He spouts excitedly. "X-Men 2 is on tonight."

"Brad, aren't you a little old for that kind of behavior?" Carol asks rhetorically, "Get off that bed."

"Who's that?" Brad springs up and down full force, points to the far wall of the hotel room.

Carol turns and sees a blond teenager leaning against the wall. Has he been here the whole time? She didn't notice him. He's got his head down, arms wrapped around his mid-section.

Ed steps towards his sister. "Um, Carol? I wish you would have called, let me know you guys were flying in early."

"Can we get some ice cream Dad?" Brad puffs, his breathing labored by all the jumping. He stops bouncing abruptly and settles at the edge of the bed. "There were Dippin' Dots at the airport but Aunt Carol said they cost too much."

"They did cost too much," Carol defends her previous decision, looks curiously back and forth between Ed, Kirsten and Ryan. "They always charge too much for things at airports. Some tour group missed their flight," she continues. "The airline offered us their seats on an earlier flight."

Her early arrival explained, Carol concentrates her attention on the kid leaning against the wall.

The teenager's head is still down but there is something so familiar about him. Carol takes a step closer, tries to get a better look at him.

"We should go now," Kirsten clears her throat, gives a slight wave in Ryan's direction. She turns to Carol, "I have a boy at home sick. It was nice to meet you." Walking over to Ryan, Kirsten puts her hand on his shoulder, and whispers, "Are you ready to go now?" He nods, keeps his head down and removes his weight off the wall.

Brad races up, rattles off to a trapped Ryan, "Do like baseball? I like football better. That's a totally cool wristband. I want an earring or a tattoo or something but my dad won't let me get one. Do you surf? You surf and skateboard, right? I'm mean this is California. I have a skateboard but I can't surf in Illinois. I brought my skateboard, do you want to see it?"

Ryan blinks at the boy, "Uh..."

"Dad," Kirsten finally hears the older boy speak, "Tell him to shut-up. He's embarrassing."

Carol moves another step closer to Ryan.

"Don't tell me to shut-up," Brad counters, "Mom doesn't let us say shut-up." Brad realizes his error, amends it with a hasty, "I meant Aunt Carol Dad, I meant to say Aunt Carol or you. You guys don't let us say it."

"It's ok Brad," Ed gives the boy a small smile.

Annoyed with his younger brother's behavior, Josh mutters, "He needs to be medicated," and heaves a suitcase on the bed. The older boy steps away from the action, out onto the balcony.

"Come on Ryan," Kirsten tries to politely extract them both from the increasingly uncomfortable situation.

"Have I met you and Ryan before?" Carol asks Kirsten.

"No," Kirsten smiles politely, shakes her head, "I don't think so. We really should be going."

"Can I show you my skateboard first?" Brad flings a request at Ryan, "It's in my backpack. You skateboard, right?"

"Brad, did you even introduce yourself to these people?" Carol chastises. "You can't just start firing off questions at people you don't even know."

"I have a bike," Ryan offers a delayed response. He pronounces the words slowly, as if the very formation of the sentence involved a complicated surgery.

"Oh," Brad says, slightly disappointed. "Well, those are cool too. Can you do flips?"

"No," Ryan shakes his head. This kid is like Seth on speed.

"I bet you could," Brad says encouragingly, "You just need a good ramp. My dad built me the totally coolest ramp in the world." Brad smiles, turns his head in his father's direction, "Didn't you Dad?"

"Yes," Ed answers quietly.

"I am so sorry to leave like this, but we really have to get going," Kirsten tries yet again to get the hell out of the hotel room.

"Are you sure I've never met you and your son before?" Carol asks yet again. "I used to live in Fresno, and then Venice Beach. I had an apartment in Redondo too. I still do a lot of business in LA." She points at Ryan, "Your son just looks so familiar to me."

Brad comes running back with a skateboard, puts it in Ryan's hands.

Ryan feigns interest, "It's uh, it's great," he assures Brad, and hands the skateboard back to the boy.

"I assume he's your son," Carol says casually, second-guessing her assumption.

Kirsten opens the hotel door, "It was nice meeting all of you." She gives Ryan a small shove out the door and closes it behind her.

"Did he tell you they were coming?" Kirsten asks.

Ryan just stands there.

"Ok, we're leaving," Kirsten announces, leading a dazed Ryan towards the elevator.

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"Ed," Carol walks up to her brother, "Who were those people?"

"Um," Ed pinches the bridge of his nose, "Do you remember, on the phone, I told you we would have a talk when you got here?"

"I'm here Ed," Carol states the obvious. "Let's talk."

"Did you get a new purse Aunt Carol?" Brad asks from across the room.

"Not now Brad," Carol answers him, "Watch TV for a few minutes, your dad and I need to have a talk."

"But Aunt Carol..." Brad pests.

"Brad," she interrupts him sharply, "Enough. I told you to leave us alone a minute."

"But I think that lady left her purse here." He holds up a purse. Ed looks at his sister. "It's not mine," she says.

Ed grabs the purse from Brad. "I'll be right back," he tells his sister.

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Ryan pushes the lobby button on the elevator panel. When the door doesn't start to close quickly enough, he pushes at it again.

"I forgot my purse in the hotel room," Kirsten realizes with a groan.

Ryan holds the elevator door open and they both exit back into the hallway.

"Do you want me to go get it?" Ryan asks, his voice flat. He sounds like a bored robot.

"No," Kirsten answers, "And I don't want to get it either," she deadpans.

Ryan glances doubtfully down the hallway in the direction of Ed's hotel room.

"You were ready to leave, right?" Kirsten asks, her purse problem temporarily forgotten.

"Yes," Ryan responds quickly. "Definitely."

"Mrs. Cohen?"

Kirsten hears her name and looks up in response. Ed Carden is approaching them, her purse in his left hand. She notices Ryan's body tense.

Ed hands the purse to Kirsten but addresses Ryan. "I didn't mean to imply back there that you were just an obligation I had to deal with Ryan. I think I'm coming on too strong and it's pushing you away. You have my cell phone number. Call me if and when you're ready. Until then, I hope things work out for you. You have yourself a nice life too."

He turns to Kirsten, "Mrs. Cohen, thank you for coming tonight."

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"Brad," Carol calls to her youngest nephew, "Come here a minute."

The eight-year-old hops over and looks up at his aunt, awaits further instructions.

"Go stand over there, up against the wall," she directs him.

"Where that boy was?" Brad asks.

Carol nods, ruffles Brad's hair as the child walks past her to the wall.

"Now lean back and fold your arms around your stomach," Carol dictates. As an after thought she adds, "And put your head down."

Despite his energy level, Brad manages to calm down enough to carry out his aunt's requests.

A nagging feeling is growing in Carol's belly. It started the minute she met Ed's visitors. Now that Brad is against the wall, the nagging feeling is developing into a full-fledged anxiety alert.

"Look up at me slowly Brad, like you don't want to but you have to."

"Can I get some ice cream?" Brad asks. "This is boring."

"Just do it Brad," Carol orders. "If you behave yourself I'll buy you two ice creams."

Brad shrugs and slowly lifts his head.

Carol raises her hand to her mouth. God. How could she have not noticed right away?

Ed walks back into the hotel room.

"Brad, go out on the balcony with your brother." Carol commands, her voice no nonsense.

"What about my ice cream?" The kid whines.

"In a few minutes Bradley," Carol raises her voice a few more decibels.

The boy gets the message. The use of his formal name is never a good sign. He scurries out to the balcony, closes the door behind himself.

"Carol?" Ed watches her questioningly.

She turns to her brother. "You son of a bitch, did Sara know?"

Ed stares at her.

"Who was that kid that just left Ed?"

When he doesn't answer, Carol ups the ante, raises her voice.

"Who were those people Ed, and why did that boy look like Brad?"

Ed holds his hand up to the side of his head, stands there, looking at her.

"What have you done?"

Carol assumes that her brother's silence is a confirmation of her suspicions. "Ed! Am I right?" She sits down on the bed, stunned. "Answer me Ed, did Sara know about him?"

Ed takes a deep breath.

"Jesus Ed, how can this be happening? You have another child?"

"Yesterday," Ed finally breaks his silence, his voice shaky. "I found out about him yesterday Carol."

"Oh come on Ed," Carol scoffs. "What is he, seventeen, eighteen? You expect me to believe that you just found him? Where, on the street? What, did he deliver a pizza to you?"

"Carol."

"And who was that woman Ed? Did you just find her too? You lied to me. You told me you were coming out here to hunt down Dawn Atwood. Closure, you said. Closure my ass."

"He's Dawn's." Ed hurries before Carol can continue her tirade. When his sister remains quiet, Carden goes on to say, "He's Dawn's child Carol. She never told me about him. I found out yesterday, when I went to see her. That woman is his foster mother. He doesn't live with Dawn anymore."

Ed watches his sister for a reaction.

"Carol, God, please, you have to believe me. I would never hide something like this from you."

His sister remains on the edge of the bed, her expression blank.

"Carol," Carden's voice cracks with emotion. "I just found out about him yesterday. We don't even have any proof yet that he's mine."

"You don't have any proof but he's here in your hotel room?" Carol says disbelievingly, clearly unconvinced of her brother's innocence. "You have to be kidding me Ed. How much proof do you need? Your proof is standing on the balcony waiting for ice cream. Now I want to know how long you have known about this kid Ed." After a short pause, she says softly, "I can't believe you did this to Sara."

Ed grinds the palm of his right hand into his eye, rubs at the socket, and sticks with his original answer. "I found out about him yesterday Carol."

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Kirsten waits until she and her foster son are well on their way back to Newport before she inquires tentatively, "Are you alright Ryan?"

He hasn't spoken since the elevator. Hell, he hasn't even looked up since the elevator.

Out the window, he's always looking out the window. Kirsten wonders what he sees out there.

"Are you alright Ryan?" she repeats.

"Yes," he nods quickly, rushes the word.

She pretends not to notice when he brushes his forearm across his eyes.

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Carol thanks the cashier and passes Brad a double-dip mint chocolate chip.

"Are you and Dad fighting?" he asks between bites.

"No," she lies.

"Josh thinks you're fighting," Brad informs his aunt.

Carol sighs wearily.

"Can we go to the beach tomorrow?" Brad licks at some renegade ice cream that is making its way down the side of his sugar cone.

"I don't know," Carol answers, "We'll see."

"Josh called me an asshole tonight," Brad tells her, "On the balcony."

"I'll talk to him," Carol assures the eight-year-old.

"It won't help," Brad surmises.

"Can I sleep in your room?" he asks.

Since his mother's death, Brad keeps his bedroom light on all night. They all know it. No one talks about it.

She kisses the top of his head. "Sure sweetie."

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"I'll hang out with Seth tonight, if that's okay," Ryan offers as they pull up in the driveway. He's been so quiet that Kirsten startles slightly at the sound of his voice. He patiently waits for her answer; his hand on the car's door latch, head turned slightly, eyes peeking at her behind his shoulder.

"Ok," Kirsten smiles, grateful that he won't be alone in the pool house all night.

"I um," Ryan searches for words, "Thank you for bringing me tonight. I know Sandy's mad."

"Sandy's not mad Ryan," Kirsten tries to reassure him, "He's just worried about you."

Ryan starts to exit the vehicle but stops. "That kid at the hotel looked a lot like me," he says softly.

Kirsten feels a chill runs down her spine. "Yes," she agrees.

"So I think that guy is uh, probably telling the truth about my mom."

He has one foot out of the car, one foot in, staring straight ahead.

"Sandy and I and Seth, we're going to help you through this Ryan. You're not alone."

Ryan listens, understands what she is saying, but struggles to comprehend why in the hell this woman would care about him.

She cares because they want him.

They told him that.

Months ago, she and Sandy sat in the living room and they invited him to be a part of their family.

He burned one of her houses to the ground and she still wanted him, in her home, with her son.

But she and Sandy never really had an option before. Before, there was nowhere else for him to go, except the group home. He wonders, if his mom had told them earlier, if this guy tonight had come sooner, if there had been another option for she and Sandy. Would he still be here in Newport?

Ryan gets out of the car, waits by the front door for Kirsten, and opens it for her.

She's so different than his mom. Everything about her is so different.

Seth never talks about it but he must realize that his mother is better looking than most moms, nicer than most moms, more attentive than most moms.

Then again, maybe Seth has never noticed. Seth doesn't need to notice. Sandy and Kirsten are all he's ever known.

Sandy.

What is he going to say to Sandy, to make things right, to make things go back to before, before he made Sandy so mad at him?

Lost in thought, he blindly follows Kirsten down the hallway, barely hears Sandy call his name.

"Ryan."

He stops walking, looks up, sees Sandy walking towards him, Kirsten walking away. She leans into her husband, gives him a kiss on the cheek before passing by him.

Ryan looks away, feeling like an intruder in this private moment between husband and wife.

When he looks back up, Sandy is in front of him.

Ryan feels a hand cup the back of his neck, pull him into a loose hug.

And just for a minute, Ryan allows himself to pretend that this is real, and that this beautiful woman and this kind man have always been his parents and that Seth has always been his brother and that this house sitting on the edge of the ocean has always been his home.

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To be continued......................................


	12. Best of Intentions Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer:** The OC, I like so totally do not own it.

**Author's Note:** All right kiddies, there is an Adult Swim moment going down in the third to last paragraph. Well, my version of an Adult Swim, more of a stick your toes in the water...but skip it if you know you should.

So, no new ways to get rid of Ed, which means you guys are finally figuring out what a great guy he is.

I'm having so much fun with the reviews. **winterrose**...thanks for the information concerning surfing. I'll pass it on to Brad.

Thanks so much for all the feedback. I know, I know, I say that all the time. But I mean it, and that counts for something, right? You guys rock. You are the feedback posse. Make me all smiley and such.

Hi **crashcmb** the wonder-beta. Everyone wave and say hi. She's the brains, I'm the...person who relies on her brains.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Eleven

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The three of them sit in the dining room eating the results of Pizza Hut on-line coupon number three. For tonight, Sandy has adopted his wife and Ryan's reserved nature. He's exhausted. No sleep last night, insanely busy day, and a night filled with worrying about Ryan and taking care of a sick Seth have taken a toll on him.

Sandy is struck by how right this feels, eating a quiet meal together.

Since coming home, Ryan has stayed close to him, following him around the house, sitting next to him at the dinner table. Maybe it's because Seth isn't around.

Sandy wants to believe that it's Ryan's way of assuring him that everything is ok.

Seth's absence, although unfortunate, may be the best thing right now. Noise and distraction are Seth's answer to everything. For tonight, maybe Ryan could do without the clouds of chaos that tornado around Seth.

Kirsten reaches for a second slice of pizza, catches Sandy's eyes, gives him a quick wink, a silent, "I love you."

Sandy glances over at Ryan. The kid may be caught in one hell of an emotional whirlwind but his appetite is doing all right. He's on his fourth piece of pizza.

"Does anyone want to talk about what happened tonight?" Sandy asks tentatively.

"Which part of tonight?" Ryan inquires cautiously through a mouth full of food.

"Any of it?" Sandy suggests.

"His kid likes to skateboard," Ryan answers, swallows a huge gulp of milk.

"His sister seems nice," Kirsten adds.

Sandy stares dumbfounded at the two of them.

"You met his family?"

"Oh yeah." Kirsten takes a bite of pizza.

"How?" Sandy pushes his plate away, concentrates his attention on Ryan.

The teenager shrugs.

"The sister mentioned something about an earlier flight." Kirsten tries to be helpful but she knows damn well that Sandy isn't inquiring as to a means of transportation.

"Let me get this straight." Sandy runs his fingers through his hair, leans forward onto the table, raises his eyebrows and says disbelievingly, "He's got his family here now?"

Kirsten nods.

Sandy holds his hands up, utters an exasperated, "Am I the only one who can see that this guy is up to something?"

"Sandy," Kirsten exhales wearily, "not now, please."

Ryan stops chewing, places a half eaten piece of pizza on his plate and begins fidgeting with his napkin.

Kirsten locks eyes with her husband and gives a slight bob of her head in Ryan's direction.

Sandy shakes his head slightly, tosses his napkin on the table and mutters, "Fine."

Kirsten pushes her chair out and stands up. "I'm full." She picks up her plate and starts towards the kitchen.

"Me too," Sandy rises as well, slides the pizza box in Ryan's direction. "Three more pieces left kid. Seth's out of the running, so it's all yours."

Ryan looks forlornly at the box. "I can't eat all that."

"Well," Sandy picks up the box, "what the hell, we'll throw it into the blender and give it to Seth for breakfast."

"Sandy," Ryan says softly, looks up at his foster father, "the guy asked me to go live with him."

"What?" Sandy sounds truly flabbergasted. He puts the pizza box back on the table, turns towards the kitchen, "Kirsten, did know about this?"

She slowly shakes her head no, watches Ryan.

Sandy sits down next to the teenager, asks warily, "What did you tell him Ryan?"

The boy averts his eyes, picks at a drop of tomato sauce that has dried on his placemat. "He um, he said that since I've only been here a few months, it shouldn't be a problem, getting used to his family. I moved in here without knowing you guys, so how hard would it be to do with his family?"

"Ryan...Can you believe this Kirsten?" Sandy scoots his chair out from the table in disgust. "Who the hell does he think he is?" The lawyer reaches for Ryan's hand, stops its' movement.

"Ryan, what did you tell him?"

"I told him no." Ryan casts a lightening fast glance at Sandy then back on the table. "I live with you guys now."

"You do," Sandy responds quickly. "You absolutely do live here Ryan. You said the right thing."

"He still wants a paternity test," the teen continues. "But then he said he would back off, so, I don't know what's going on now." Ryan adds a murmured, "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for Ryan?" Kirsten asks, reentering the dining area.

Ryan turns his gaze to Sandy. "That you guys have to deal with this, especially right now, when Seth is so sick."

Kirsten looks mortified. How many times is this child going to apologize for something that he is not responsible for? "Ryan, you don't owe us an apology. None of this is your fault. This situation isn't something that needs to be apologized for."

"I'll file for a restraining order," Sandy says determinedly. "I don't want you worrying about Ed Carden, Ryan. He's not going to bother you any more. Let me handle it."

The baby monitor crackles to life and a static version of Seth's coughing fills the kitchen.

"I want you to promise me that you'll let me handle this Ryan."

"Ok," Ryan answers. "Do it, do whatever you think is right."

Walking over to the fridge, Kirsten grabs a bottle of water. "I'll go check on Seth." She suggests to Sandy, "Why don't you come help me honey?"

Sandy stands up and lightly slaps Ryan on the shoulder. "I'll be right back. Go watch some television, kick back, try to relax a little bit." As he accompanies Kirsten out of the room, he points to the table, "Eat some more pizza."

Ryan nods and issues an uncertain half-smile.

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The boys don't fight sleep. It's two hours later in Illinois. They're tired.

Ed retrieves two beers from his mini-fridge, hands one to his sister.

"Let's go out to the balcony," he proposes.

The kids look asleep, but there's no use in taking chances. Better safe than sorry.

It's a small rectangular balcony, no chairs. Ed leans up against one wall, Carol the other.

"So. Ed," Carol says flippantly, "Anything specific you want to talk about? How's the weather been?"

Ed ignores her sarcasm. "I'm done trying to convince you of anything Carol. Believe what you want to believe. But I just found out about Ryan yesterday and I'd like your support."

"Well I just found out about him an hour and a half ago Ed, so please excuse me if I'm not quite ready to participate in this deranged version of My Three Sons."

Carden reacts to her harsh words as if he has been slapped.

"He's mine Carol. It's obvious. It took you what, five minutes to figure it out? He's mine and Dawn kidnapped him as far as I'm concerned."

Carol picks at the label on her beer bottle. "Speaking of Dawn Atwood, where is she? Why is this kid living with a foster family?"

Ed watches the traffic that is visible from the balcony. "I'm not sure of all the specifics. Basically, Dawn kicked Ryan out of the house this summer and he's been with the Cohens ever since. She told me that she went back for him once, but left him there. She didn't really go into a lot of detail. Dawn's a drunk, seriously Carol, she's a fucking mess. Russell, big surprise, is in prison. Armed robbery."

"Wow," Carol absorbs the information. "What happened to their other kid?" She snaps her fingers trying to recall the name.

"Trey," Ed solves the problem for her.

"Yeah, that was it, Trey." Carol smiles at the memory. "Cute kid, very active, but cute. What happened to him?"

Ed shakes his head. "Prison."

Poor Dawn, thinks Carol. A husband and son in jail, another son in foster care. Fresno was an escape for her and Ed. But in the end, they were middle class kids who always had their parents to fall back on. Russell and Dawn didn't have that luxury, and their lives are evidently in shambles.

Ed cringes, takes a swig of beer. "Did I mention how poor she is?"

"I...kind of made that connection independently," Carol tells him and then asks, "So what's up with the foster parents? They must be decent people, taking in a kid Ryan's age. He's what, seventeen?" Carol liberates the label off her beer, sets the beer on the balcony's cement floor, and leans on the railing.

"Sixteen." Ed corrects her. "The Cohens. I'm not sure. They're rich as hell. I guess her father built half of Newport Beach."

"We'll she seems pleasant enough," Carol shrugs. "A little skittish, but I wouldn't have pegged her as a snob."

"Her husband's a lawyer and an asshole, if there's a difference. I had a run in with him last night, and then today, on the phone." Ed slides down the wall, sits on the ground. "I just met her tonight."

"You've been busy," Carol comments dryly. "No wonder you were a mess last night."

"Yeah, it's been one hell of a vacation," Ed quips, scratches the back of his head.

Carol picks up her beer, takes a sip. "So where do you see all this going? Paternity test?"

Ed nods, "I asked for one for tomorrow but I don't think the Cohens are going to cooperate."

"Well I'm sure they are just as shocked by all this as you are little brother. Give them some time."

Ed shakes his head. "They shouldn't even be a factor. This is bullshit. This should be between me and Dawn."

Carol turns to him. "And Ryan, right Ed? This should be between you, Dawn and Ryan. I mean, this is really more about him than anybody, right?"

"Of course," Ed answers quickly. "Of course. I'm only thinking about Ryan's best interests. I'm trying to protect him. Dawn's a nightmare."

"But..." Carol sits down next to her brother. "Ryan's living with these people the Cohens now. And while the guy may come off like a jerk to you, she seems ok and the kid looks well fed, so...they are...kind of an important factor too Ed."

Ed ignores her innuendo. "My lawyer seems confident I can be granted a paternity test fairly quickly."

"You have a lawyer already?" Carol asks skeptically. "Why do you need a lawyer? What's the rush?"

Ed concentrates on the traffic again, avoids his sister's eyes. "I just want to be on an even playing field Carol. I told you, Cohen is a lawyer, they're rich. I don't intend to be pushed around."

"Well she brought him here, that's an act of good faith. Get his e-mail, call him, and let him get to know you. I think with a little time the Cohens will come around. They're just looking out for this kid Ed, he's their responsibility."

Ed finishes his beer, opens the balcony door. "Not by my choice."

-----------------------------------------

Seth is awake, sitting up in bed, coughing. Nights are worse than days, he's decided. He kicks off the blanket. It's hot and stuffy in his room. His throat is killing him. His head hurts. He's pretty sure his limbs are made of cement. He's thirsty, too tired to get up and get a drink and scared to swallow it even if he can somehow manage to procure one. His life, at the present moment, is not so much made of the fun.

He glances at his alarm clock. His mom and Ryan have been gone for a long time, maybe they're home. He needs to check. And if they are home, he needs to get his ass out of bed and find Ryan. 'Cause there is some seriously messed up shit raining down on him right now.

Seth swings his feet over the side of his bed. He feels like he's eighty. This is silly. He's sixteen. He's being a wuss. Standing up should not take concentration. He feels so sorry for himself. There should be an award for surviving the mono. He's saved from his labors by the arrival of his mother and father into his bedroom.

"Hey," Kirsten greets him, pushes sweaty hair off his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Seth coughs.

"Stupid question," Kirsten chastises herself. "Sorry." She screws the top off the water bottle and hands it to her son. He makes a face and then takes a sip, followed by a grimace as he swallows.

"How'd you know I was awake?" He asks with a voice made of sandpaper.

Sandy points to the monitor base on Seth's dresser.

"Ok, that's not staying here." Seth grumbles. "I tolerated the bath but I'm relatively sure that this violates several of my civil liberties. Besides," he mocks a shiver, "it's creepy."

"Only for a few days Seth," Kirsten assures him. "Just until you feel a little better. I promise. Give us a break here, ok? You just got out of the hospital." She looks at Sandy, "What bath?"

"I'll explain it later," Sandy contributes. "Do you need anything kiddo? Are you hungry?"

"No," Seth states with such conviction that even Kirsten doesn't push the point.

Sandy takes his temperature and announces happily that it's down to 100.7. The Motrin is doing its job.

"Where's Ryan?" Seth asks, follows up the question with a cough and a wince.

Kirsten cringes with sympathy. "Downstairs. I think he's planning on hanging out with you tonight. Do you want me to go get him?"

Seth closes his eyes, rubs his temples, and issues a hoarse, "Yes."

"He's had a rough night Seth," Kirsten says. "I know you did too but..."

"I understand Mom," Seth replies. "It's cool."

Ryan materializes in the doorway, peeks into Seth's room and offers his friend a hesitant wave.

"Hey, that was quick," observes Seth. Too quick. Nobody left his room yet.

Ryan points to the baby monitor, looks apologetic. "I was in the kitchen cleaning up."

"I want that thing out now," Seth reiterates.

-------------------------------------

Brad's too big for Carol to carry. Ed takes him to her hotel room. The child stirs slightly, but settles immediately into the new bed. Ed leans down and kisses the boy on his forehead.

Carol walks her brother to the door. Far enough away from Brad to avoid being overheard, she asks Ed, "Are you doing ok? I'm sorry I was so angry before. All I could think about was that you were having a long-term affair and hiding this kid and woman from all of us. I know that's stupid and completely irrational, but things were just coming at me too fast. I'm here for you Ed, you know that."

He gives her a hug, "Thank you."

"This is crazy, I can't believe I have another nephew," Carol allows herself to finally process tonight's disclosure. "When are you going to tell the boys? Josh already knows something is up."

"Well, I'd like to wait until we get the paternity test back. I'll call Josh's therapist in the morning, see what she thinks."

Carol nods, tells him, "Brad wants to go to the beach."

"We'll see," Ed answers. "I'm hoping the Cohens roll over on the paternity test and we can get it taken care of tomorrow. But I'll stop by the front desk, find out where the best beach around here is."

--------------------------------------

Sandy pulls Kirsten into their bedroom, closes the door, puts his arms around her waist, and gives her a kiss. "I assume that when you asked me to help you carry a bottle of water into Seth's room, what you were really trying to do was get me the hell out of the kitchen."

"That transparent, huh?" Kirsten kisses him back, puts her arms around his neck.

"So, what's up?" Sandy asks, leads her over to the bed.

God she smells good. She feels good.

He's tired, but tired ain't dead.

Yeah, his kid has been sick and Ryan's going through hell, but he and Kirsten has been squabbling at each other off and on since yesterday afternoon. A little impromptu sex suddenly seems like just the ticket to get them back on track.

"I need you to do me a favor." She pushes him back on the bed, positions herself on top of his hips.

"Anything" Sandy instantly agrees.

She leans in close, kisses him again.

"Stop bad mouthing Ed Carden in front of Ryan."

"Kirsten," Sandy wrangles her top off, throws it on the floor. "I really, do not...want to talk about... Ed Carden...right now." He fumbles with her bra strap. He likes the ones with a clasp in the front a hell of a lot better.

Kirsten takes mercy on him. "Later then." She pulls at his belt. "This is important to me Sandy, I want to talk about it later. We need to talk about this for Ryan's sake."

"That's fine." Sandy's lust triumphs over Victoria Secret's best.

The bra takes flight and coasts in for a comfortable landing next to the shirt.

"Anything you want honey."

---------------------------------

Ryan sits on the floor, looks up at Seth from over his shoulder.

"What's this about a bath?" Ryan ribs. "What are you, four?"

"Don't ask." Seth groans, points lethargically at the monitor on his dresser. "Ryan, dude, please, put those Chino skills to good use and get rid of that thing. Make it disappear."

Ryan smiles mischievously, reaches into the waistband of his jeans and produces the handheld portable listening devise from the kitchen. "I'm already on it," he assures Seth.

"You are the man, Ryan." Seth flops back on the bed. A few moments of silence are followed up by, "Wanna talk about this whole extra dad thing?"

"Want to tell me about that bath?" Ryan counters.

"Game, set and match to Atwood." Seth concedes. "I'm falling asleep now. I'm sorry. I appear to have very little control over these things."

Ryan waits until Seth is truly out of it before he hightails it to the pool house, changes into sweats, grabs his pillow and blanket from the living room floor. He's surprised when he makes it back up to Seth's room without having run into either Sandy or Kirsten. Actually, he's thankful. His full stomach combined with sheer exhaustion from lack of meaningful sleep have him barely better off than his sick foster brother.

He settles himself on the floor next to Seth's bed.

This room, he's always relaxed in it.

Ryan decides he definitely did the right thing tonight, telling Carden to fuck off. He belongs at the Cohens.

Sandy's happy again.

He kinda feels bad for the guy though. Another victim of Dawn Atwood thank you very much.

Ryan flips over, hugs his chest.

He's sure of it now. Tonight was his wake up call. He belongs here with Sandy, Kirsten and Seth.

That little boy reminded him of Seth, crazy mad energy.

Except for the blond hair and the blue eyes.

Those reminded him of something else.

Ryan flips over.

He can't seem to find a comfortable position.

----------------------------------------

Kirsten's glad she and Sandy took the time to make love. They needed the release. It's been a horrible couple of days.

As she lies in his arms, her head on his chest, she thinks about the words she needs to express to her husband.

_Be careful of what you say to Ryan about Ed. Tread lightly. I've seen too much of Ryan in this man and his children to casually dismiss him from Ryan's life. Ryan trusts us to do the right thing. We can't let our desire to keep him overshadow the fact that Ryan deserves a chance to get to know Ed Carden and his family._ _We cannot be responsible for vilifying this man._

Kirsten leaves the comfort of Sandy's chest, curls up on her side and starts crying, just a little bit, quiet and soft.

She thought Seth was dying yesterday. For a few hours, she let herself think about the possibility of her son no longer being in her life, and she and Sandy living without him. And it has scared her in ways she did not believe possible.

What does Dawn Atwood think about everyday? Knowing that one child is in prison. Knowing that Ryan is living under another woman's roof. Dawn chose her to be Ryan's mother.

She has been given the gift of another woman's child.

What did Ed Carden feel yesterday, the moment he learned that he had another son, but was never given the opportunity to be his father? How would Sandy feel, if he found out tomorrow that he had another child? How would he react? What would he do?

"Kirsten?"

What is this doing to Ryan? What is happening deep inside this child, in the places he keeps to himself.

Out the windows, the places Ryan goes, when he looks out windows.

Sandy has to lean over her small frame to have access to her face. He brushes away her hair, his hand coming away wet with Kirsten's tears.

"Honey, why are you crying?"

Kirsten doesn't offer a response.

All he can do is hold her.

-------------------------------------------

To be continued........................


	13. Best of Intentions Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer:** I am attempting a hostile takeover. Any one up for it? Until then, don't own it.

**Author's Note:** I would like to apologize to **ben** who came up with the plan two chapters ago to kill Ed with a peanut. I am assuming she is referring to the nut and not the dog from **romie's **story. Perhaps it doesn't matter. A shark attack appears to be popular as well.

So much angst. You have all been suffering so well, so, no angst this chapter. Just kiddin'. Got to have the angst. But I'm feeling generous, so I woke up Seth. Enjoy.

Shelbecat, you and Seth have similar vocabularies.

Oh, and **crashcmb** did the whole "beta" thing but then made the mistake of allowing me tinkering time. Any mistakes you find are all mine. I like the tinker but my license to tinker should be revoked.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing and especially for being patient enough to let my story crawl along at the pace I need it to.

--------------------------------------------

Best of Intentions

Chapter 12

--------------------------------------------

Whispered voices, straining not to be too loud, wake Ryan slowly. He emerges from his deep sleep in stages, first simply becoming aware of noises, and then, as full consciousness returns, actual words. Ryan opens his eyes but remains motionless.

"Seth, do you want a drink?"

It's Sandy.

Sandy is in Seth's room, sitting on his son's bed, giving Seth some kind of medicine.

"No," Ryan hears Seth's scratchy response. "I hate this Dad," the teen adds.

Ryan watches as Sandy pats his son's back and tells the boy, "I know Seth. I'm sorry that you've had to go through all this. You're doing a hell of a job hanging in there."

Seth nods, lies back down.

"Where's Ryan?" Seth pulls his head up off the pillow, tries to crane his neck around.

"He's still here," Sandy assures Seth. "He's sleeping."

"Ok," Seth says groggily. "Just wanted to make sure."

Sandy gets up, stretches. "I'm heading back to bed. Your mom will check in on you in a few hours, make sure that fever is behaving itself."

Seth nods a second time, closes his eyes.

"Call us if you need anything Seth, anything at all."

Sandy excuses himself, leaving the bedroom door open as he exits.

---------------------------------------

Josh has a nightmare.

His mother is in her car, half of her face peeling off in flames, the other half watching him. When she screams, he wakes up, kicking.

"Josh?" Ed asks in a bleary mutter, the after affects of sleep confusing his ability to comprehend. "What's wrong son?"

"Nothing," Josh mumbles. "This room is too hot," he complains. The boy throws off his blanket, pounds his pillow into a more acceptable position.

After a minute of silence Ed asks, "Was it another nightmare Josh?"

His son shrugs, doesn't answer.

"It's going to get better Josh," Ed promises. "Everyday, things are getting a little better. It just doesn't always feel like that."

Josh grabs his pillow, tosses it to the floor beside the bed and flops down on the carpet.

"Leave me alone," he grumbles.

His dad is so stupid.

How can things get better?

His mom is dead.

You don't get better when you are dead.

-------------------------------------------

Ryan is having trouble falling back asleep. He sits on the floor, legs stretched out.

Thinking.

Six months ago, if someone would have told him that he would be attending a private school and living in a Newport pool house, he would have run like hell from the crazy son of a bitch. Chino has its fair share of insane individuals, most of whom push shopping carts.

A few talk to them.

The homeless are considered wild life in Chino, local ambiance. When he was younger, Ryan always dreaded that he, his mother and Trey would become a member of the shopping cart herd. Nameless social pariahs, wandering the streets for whatever horrific reasons that real life had abandoned them for.

He knew a few kids at school back in Chino, who were homeless, living in shelters off and on. Usually they moved on, didn't stay at school too long. They didn't push carts. Just moved around. A lot. They weren't insane, just unlucky.

Ryan doesn't fear change like most kids do.

He waits compliantly for it and weathers as best he can the storms it brings with it.

Men.

Change always brings men.

The policemen that had arrested his father, Dawn's litany of boyfriends, the cops that busted him and Trey, one lawyer named Sandy, a repentant man named Ed.

Change isn't hard and it isn't scary, as long as you control it.

"Ryan," Seth's scratchy voice interrupts Ryan's thoughts. "You awake?"

"Yeah what's up?" Ryan snaps to attention, lifts his head so Seth can see him.

"Can you get me some Gatorade?"

Seth sounds pitiful. Ryan smiles. Not at Seth's misery, but at the normalcy it represents.

"What color?" Ryan asks, trying to hide his grin.

"Yellow," Seth answers. "I'm old school sport drink."

"Got it." Ryan exits the room.

Seth sits up in bed, dizzy and tired. He's tired of being dizzy.

With Ryan gone, Seth plots how he's going to get to the bathroom under his own steam.

------------------------------------------------

When Ryan returns with the drink, Seth is sitting on the side of the bed.

"I have walked to the bathroom and back," he proudly brags. Adds, "Independently."

"That's impressive," Ryan deadpans, hands the drink to Seth, resumes his place on Seth's bedroom floor.

"Yes," Seth nods enthusiastically, raises his shoulders, postures like a strutting peacock. "Oh, wait. Who's that at the door? Ah yes, it's my old friends manhood and dignity."

"I take it you're feeling better?" Ryan asks hopefully.

"Actually," Seth bobs his head up and down, "I do, a little bit. I'm thinking, I only feel like shit now, instead of day-old shit."

"That's an upgrade," Ryan reflects.

"Yes it is," Seth agrees. "Now, while I'm conscious, let's discuss your possible surplus parental unit."

"Not now Seth." Ryan tries to sound decisive. But he can't muster any aggression towards his sick foster brother. His words come off sounding like he's asking permission to wait to take out the trash.

"Is there a good time?" Seth inquires, "Will there ever be a good time? To talk about this kind of thing? Noon? Maybe late afternoon? Dusk."

He draws out the s and k in the word dusk, because that's what he does.

Words are Seth's catnip.

"Seth." Ryan manages a tiny amount of frustration this time. It can't possibly take much of an effort to shut Seth up. The kid looks like a ceiling fan could blow him over. Or maybe a three year-old with a pinwheel.

God, he still looks so sick.

"Ryyyyyyan?" Seth says leadingly. "I'm out of the 411 here. The Kirsten is more aware of your social life right now than I am and I cannot emphasize to you how very disturbing that should be for both of us."

"You're sick Seth, now's not the time." Ryan's back to gentle. He doesn't have the energy or will to channel angry, detached boy right now. He just wants Seth to talk about something else.

"Not that sick, dude. You picked up an extra dad last night. That's big. That's 'Mall of America' big. That's 'We Really Should Talk About It' big."

Ryan sighs. His newly established bastard status is clearly Seth's topic of choice. His options are to deal with it or wait until Seth passes out. He shouldn't have given Seth any Gatorade; it's probably helping to fuel his foster brother's first actual burst of energy in three days.

Ryan drops his head in defeat.

Seth moves in for the kill.

"So what did he say tonight?" Seth struggles for a proper moniker to address the man that has spontaneously appeared in Ryan's life. "What do you call this guy anyway?"

"Guy," Ryan quips.

Seth considers Ryan's answer. "Well, it lacks some creativity, but I suppose it could grow on him, kind of like those dogs that are named Dog."

Ryan shakes his head.

Seth yawns.

"So," Seth talks over his yawn, causing the long 'o' to linger in the air, "What happened tonight, at the hotel?"

"I don't know." Ryan murmurs

"Yes you do," Seth counters.

Ryan looks up at his foster brother, raises a single eyebrow. The message is clear, back off.

But Seth is feverish and medicated, loopy as hell and filled with bravado. He knows the chances of Ryan retaliating at the present moment are slim to none.

Ryan needs to talk about this. And he, Seth, needs to stay awake and make him.

Seth suppresses another huge yawn.

"I uh, I think the guy feels guilty." Ryan offers.

"Understandable." Seth stares at Ryan, waits for more information. When Ryan remains silent, Seth asks, "Catch me up, are we thinking he really could be your father?"

Ryan nods, "Yeah."

Seth twirls his finger, "And we are basing this on..."

"I look like him. His kid looks like me."

Nine words, nine syllables. Seth's never met anyone who can say so much when saying so little. Ryan is a living, breathing human CliffsNotes.

Seth's still skeptical. "How much with the resemblance thing?"

Ryan raises both eyebrows this time. "Enough."

"So, assuming that this guy is your biological father, and me, personally, I'm still holding out for, I don't know, medical proof. But let's just take this big leap and say like, he is, just for a minute. Assuming he is your...father...what does it mean?"

Seth stops talking, but his hands are in overdrive, wind-milling as he thinks things through. "I mean, you know, what does that mean for you, and us, and..." Seth holds his hands out, "Here?"

Ryan can't answer the question. But he does anyway, tries to sound confident.

"Nothing. It doesn't mean anything. Your dad is going to take out a restraining order against the guy to make him leave me alone."

Seth stares at Ryan. "Is that what you really want?"

"Huh?" Ryan asks.

"Is that what you want? I mean, aren't you just like the slightest bit interested in who this guy is, or what he's all about?"

Ryan turns away from Seth, stares at the wall.

"Ryan?" Seth tries to solicit an answer. "I don't think this is something you can blow off. This is pretty important. It's not like anything has to change with...us... mom and dad and me... but don't you want to get to know this guy?"

Ryan still doesn't answer him.

"Ryan, dude. Medical history at least? Maybe find out about a rich uncle? Male pattern balding?"

Ryan shrugs, maintains his detached façade. "I don't care Seth. Whatever man. Whatever your dad decides I should do is fine."

Seth pauses, takes another sip of Gatorade to soothe his aching throat. That's not a good answer. In fact, it's a really screwed up answer.

"Well, I guess that's a game plan, but uh, are you sure you want Dad driving the bus big guy?"

Ryan's sleepy. It's the middle of the night. Seth's questions are making him think way harder than he wants to. He doesn't want to think about anything anymore.

He's getting frustrated.

"Leave it alone Seth."

Not threatening, but not warm and fuzzy either. Seth takes note of the subtle change in Ryan's demeanor.

"I don't think so." Seth persists. Leaving it alone is tempting. Seth's throat is starting to communicate with his stomach. His body has turned against him. And Seth's not entirely sure he had control of his body before the mono.

"He wants me to live with him Seth. Is that what you want? You want me to get to know him and move in with him?" Ryan's voice is still relatively low but it's obvious that his notorious temper is starting to gradually mount.

"No," Seth answers quietly. "I most definitely do not want that."

"Then leave it alone Seth," Ryan advises, his voice taking on a more hardened tone. "Just leave it the fuck alone."

Ryan's warning feels like a bucket of cold water dropped on Seth's head. Something's not right here. Even steadfast Ryan cannot find out about a possible father and then dismiss him in one day.

That's just not healthy.

"You told me what the guy wants, and what dad wants, and you asked me what I want, but what do you want Ryan? Do you want this guy to go away? What do you want?"

Ryan stands up, wanders around the room, putting a little distance between himself and Seth.

Seth and all his questions.

"Ryan?"

Seth's eyes track Ryan.

He can't stop himself. He should, he knows that. Back off, give Ryan space, let him brood, keep it to himself.

It's what they all do. Mom, Dad, him, hell even Marissa understands when to back off.

As if a manual accompanied Ryan along with the foster care papers. Page 3. "Do not force confrontation. Do not even attempt to delve into subject's personal feelings."

They've learned over time, not to overwhelm Ryan and suffocate him with attention. They all do it. Easy to pretend that backing off is out of respect for Ryan, but really, Seth suspects, it's because they are all afraid to push.

"Ryan?"

Ryan's not pacing. He's staring at the computer, which would be fine if it had porn on it. But it doesn't. It's turned off.

"Ryan. Dude. What do _you_ want?"

"I want to stop talking about this Seth."

Seth sits in bed, unsure of what to do. Does Ryan really want to stop talking about it, or does he want to be pushed so he has an excuse to talk about it? Seth goes with the push theory, even though he's pretty sure it's the wrong call. Friends don't let friends push Ryan Atwood.

Too bad.

Ryan's in need of an emotional intervention and Seth has appointed himself just the man to do it.

Slow.

He needs to go slow.

Demand information slowly, in manageable increments. Little Emotional McNuggets.

"Is he nice?"

Ryan's eyes remain glued to the blank computer screen.

"Ryan. Is the guy nice?"

Ryan shrugs. "I don't know."

"Well, he must be a real prick, right? If my dad's getting a restraining order against him. So he's an absolute, 100 percent prick, right?"

Ryan shakes his head. "I'm not sure Seth. Back off, I just met the guy, okay?"

Seth has no intention of backing off. He's all about the pushing tonight. Something is rotten in Newport.

"If the guy's not a prick, then why is my dad getting a restraining order? Is he violent? Did he try and hit you or mom?"

"No." Ryan scoffs the answer, making Seth feel ridiculous for even asking it.

"Ryan, I don't understand why my Dad is getting a restraining order."

Ryan stops staring at the computer, turns his attention to a stack of comic books.

"The guy's weird Seth, asking for things, like paternity testing and for me to live with him. I think Sandy's freaked out."

Seth digests the information and asks, "But you're not, freaked out? Just Dad? So really, Dad is getting a restraining order to protect you from someone you don't necessarily want to be protected from?"

Ryan is losing patience.

He stands up again.

"I don't know Seth, you're twisting everything around. I'm cool with whatever Sandy wants to do."

Again with the 'what Sandy wants to do'. Seth is no Starsky or for that matter Hutch, but something is just not adding up.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore Seth," Ryan takes the offensive. "You've been sick. You don't know everything that's been going on. Just drop it."

"But I think you should talk about it Ryan."

Seth sounds so genuinely concerned that it is making Ryan's brain hurt. If Seth doesn't shut up, he's going to have to unleash the attitude. He doesn't want to unleash the attitude, especially on a sick Seth. He doesn't even like to unleash the attitude on a healthy Seth.

"Ryan."

"Shut up Seth." Quick little verbal bullets. Let them hit the mark and shut this kid the hell up.

Ryan picks up a comic book, thumbs through it.

Seth remains seated on the side of the bed. Staring at the opposing wall.

"Ryan, when you helped me get into the house today, from the car, it was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

Ryan stays silent, waiting to see where Seth is going with this new line of chatter.

"I just thought you should know that," Seth states, lies down, pulls his blanket up to his chin.

A few minutes pass before Ryan moves quietly to the side of the bed. He settles himself on the floor, continues to glance at the comic book.

"Goodnight Seth." Ryan hopes it comes off as the apology he needs it to be.

"Yep," Seth answers. He sounds so exhausted. He sounds so sick.

Ryan realizes that it must have taken a hell of an effort for him to stay up as long as he has.

"Seth, I didn't mean to..."

"You need to talk about this man," Seth interrupts him. "Seriously. This is the kind of shit that makes people start drinking vodka instead of eating lunch."

"I know," Ryan responds softly.

God does he know that. Vodka, beer, sedatives, Vicodin, Jack Daniels, pot. They've all spent the night with his mom instead of reality.

"I'm just saying," Seth sounds like he is in slow motion. The Gatorade high is done. Mono is leading the parade again. "That either you talk about this or I would hate to be the next rich kid that pisses you off."

"I get it Seth."

"Good," Seth yawns, "'Cause I'm really fucking rich."

Ryan throws the comic book at him.

---------------------------------------------

To be continued.........When, I'm not sure. I guess is going on holiday for a few days. I'll post when it comes back.


	14. Best of Intentions Chapter Thirteen

**Disclaimer**: If I owned the OC I would not be in need of this disclaimer. Duh.

**Author's note**: So...the "My Bad" award goes to...me. See, I wasn't going on holiday, I thought that this server was but then half my message was eaten so you guys thought I was leaving and.....whatever. Sorry for the mix-up. Thus...my bad. (Sorry, that fragment of an apology breaks like, 7,000 rules.)

Thank you for all the wonderful feedback. There is an end for this story, I promise. It's just taking us awhile to get there.

Oh and a shout-out to **brandy** and **joey **who inadvertently inspired a part of this chapter.

Poor Ed in this chapter...I just know more people will have his back after this one.

Thanks **crashcmb**. Your patience will no doubt be rewarded someday.

--------------------------------------

Best of Intentions

Chapter Thirteen

--------------------------------------

Saturday 

Kirsten drags herself from bed, still worn out from the events of the past several days.

It's her turn to check on Seth.

She tiptoes into her son's bedroom. He's fast asleep, Ryan as well. She quietly takes Seth's temperature and is unhappy to see that it is creeping back into unacceptable territory. Every time the Motrin starts to wear off, Seth's temperature starts to climb again.

Kirsten sighs and retrieves the medicine. She grabs a bottle of water and returns to Seth's room. Sitting on his bed, she gently shakes him awake and helps him sit up. "We'll do this quick," she assures him. "So you can go back to sleep."

Seth nods. Using a shaky hand, he drinks the Motrin from the small plastic dosage cup and takes a few sips of the water that Kirsten is shoving at him.

"Try and drink a little more," Kirsten urges Seth. Push the fluids the doctor told her and she intends to do just that. Kirsten has absolutely no desire to set foot back in the emergency room. Ever.

Seth takes another sip and then shakes his head no. "Mom, I don't want anymore," he half whines, too exhausted for a full-fledged complaint.

She helps settle him back into bed. He curls into a ball and is soon sleeping.

Kirsten sits on her son's bed, watching him. She reaches out and plays with a few of his insane curls, feels the texture of his hair.

Somewhere between Kindergarten and Harbor, Seth has almost grown into man. Kirsten still feels so young, how can she have a child this old? She tries to remember when he stopped allowing the carefree touches, the drive-by kisses. Maybe in middle school, she can't remember. It happened like erosion, slowly, over time, until one day he slapped her hand off the top of his head when she went to play with his hair, or pushed her away when she went to give him a kiss.

He was probably younger.

She's been touching her son a lot these past few days, and it's been a guilty pleasure. Seth would literally die if he knew. "God Mom," he would say, "Can you get anymore pathetic?"

Time has turned Seth against her. He used to run into her arms. Now, like a typical teenage boy, he can't get the hell away from her fast enough.

Kirsten glances at Ryan, lying so still on the floor. She was worried that her presence would wake him, but it hasn't. He must be completely worn down.

On the way out of Seth's bedroom, she bends down and allows her hand to lightly brush the top of her foster son's hair.

--------------------------------

Carol wakes up Brad. Can't let the little brat sleep in, he'll end up staying up late, watching Saturday Night Live and then go back to school with all the jokes.

He's such a shit.

And God help her, she does love him for it. His constantly moving mouth is matched only by his carefree charm and adorable looks. It's a dangerous combination. He gets away with so much, it's incredible. Sara's death has only compounded the problem.

He could probably set the school on fire at this point and get away with it. "That's just Brad," the teachers would laugh as they pass buckets of water to each other and wait patiently for the fire department.

"It's too early. Is the sun up?" Brad asks groggily. "I don't think I see the sun."

Carol flings open the drapes. Sunlight bursts in, tickling every corner of the hotel room.

"Point made," Brad concedes and makes his way to the bathroom. He doesn't bother to close the door.

"Brad, for heaven's sake. Modesty." Carol playfully chastises. "Should I just leave the door open when I use the restroom?"

"Gross! Aunt Carol that is disgusting," Brad gripes, clearly not making the connection between his voyeuristic actions and his aunt's threat.

Brad finishes in the restroom and digs through his stuffed suitcase. He holds up two of the dozen Hawaiian shirts he packed for this trip. Carol laughs to herself. He's Jimmy Buffett's mini-me. Brad loves the busy prints, leaves them open, always wears a white t-shirt underneath. An older kid at school made fun of him for wearing them. Brad gave the kid a black eye.

The principal dismissed it as latent anger associated with Brad's mother's untimely death.

Brad associated the fight with the other kid being a fashioned challenged jerk.

"Which one do you think will bug Josh more?" Brad asks mischievously. "Flowers or surfboards?"

Carol sighs. "That's a poor litmus test for a wardrobe decision Brad."

"Flowers it is!" He exclaims, dropping 'trou' and changing right there in front of her.

------------------------------------

Ed wakes up to find Josh already dressed and reading on the balcony.

"What are you reading?" He asks enthusiastically, hoping that his son will respond in kind.

"A book," Josh answers flatly, his disdain for the question obvious.

"Well, what's it about?" Ed gives it another shot.

"Fictitious events," Josh mutters, turns a page with more force than necessary.

"Always a pleasure Josh," Ed deadpans, leaving the boy alone.

When his father is out of earshot Josh answers, "Wish I could say the same."

------------------------------------

Carol and Brad make their way to Ed's room.

Brad convinces his aunt that his very life depends on the acquisition of a McDonalds Big Breakfast. Carol decides that her life may very well end without an Egg McMuffin. Josh ignores them, but finally comes around, claiming that a few pancakes wouldn't kill him. A vote is held and within minutes Ed grudgingly retrieves his car keys and heads out in search of the nearest golden arches.

Alone with the boys, Carol focuses in on the oldest who has now positioned himself in one of the room's two chairs, his legs flung across one padded arm.

"Hey," Carol vies for Josh's attention. "How'd you sleep last night?"

"Fine," he answers sullenly.

"Any nightmares?" She walks over, puts her hand on the book he is reading, leans it down, away from his face.

Josh glances up at his aunt, nods slowly, his eyes already filling with contained tears.

"Brad, go out on the....."

"Balcony, yep, got it," the younger boy smartasses, grabs a skateboarding magazine.

He's so damn smart, Carol thinks as she watches Brad close not only the heavy, glass balcony door, but also the curtain, allowing even more privacy for her and Josh. Brad just knows things. Carol has to work hard not to treat him as the favorite.

"Josh, come here sweetie," Carol goes to the bed, pats a spot beside her.

Josh walks over, settles himself on the bed, and lays his head on his aunt's shoulder.

"I miss her so much," he manages to choke out, "We never go on vacation without her. She should be here. This isn't right. We shouldn't be here without her."

"Tell you what," Carol places an arm around the boy. "When we go to Disney, we'll find the biggest, fastest, roller coaster, and we'll ride it twice in a row. Just you and me, one extra time, just for your mom. Sara would like that. We'll do that just for her. We'll dedicate it to her, ok?"

He nods, accepts her proposal. "I'm such a baby," he says forlornly, wiping at the tears that have started to roll down his face.

"No you're not honey," Carol assures him, "You're sad. And that's perfectly normal."

"Brad doesn't cry," Josh comments, the tears starting to come under control. "And he's two years younger than me."

"He doesn't have time," Carol deadpans, "He's too busy trying to come up with ways to make your life miserable."

Josh releases a reluctant chuckle.

"By the way," Carol pokes her nephew in the side of his belly, "Don't call your brother an asshole, even if he's being one."

----------------------------------------

Kirsten decides to make a pot of coffee and stay up. The house is eerily quiet for a Saturday morning. Usually Sandy and at least one of the boys are up. Sandy going in and out, getting ready to surf or coming back from it, a teenager sitting at the counter, eating breakfast, either talking or listening, depending on the hair color.

Kirsten glances at the clock and then at the phone.

Ed Carden made a promise to her last night and, in Kirsten's opinion, said promise did not include asking Ryan to go and live with him.

A little tiny bit of her has to admit that Sandy may have been right. Going to the hotel might have been a huge mistake. But Ryan seemed all right after they returned to the house, closer to normal than he has been since he first found out about Ed's existence.

Kirsten reaches for the phone, dials information and is connected to the hotel that Ed Carden is staying in. She requests his room and waits while the phone rings several times before a woman answers.

Thinking she has been transferred to the wrong hotel room, Kirsten begins an apology but is stopped mid-sentence when the woman offers, "This is his sister Carol. Ed should be back any minute. Can I take a message? I'll have him call you back."

Kirsten hesitates and Carol guesses, "Is this...Mrs. Cohen?"

"Yes," Kirsten answers quickly. "Yes. I um, I hope it's not too early to call. I'll just

leave our home number. If you could please tell Mr. Carden to call me back this morning, I'd appreciate it."

Carol assures her the time is no problem; both of the boys are already awake, waiting breakfast. She jots down the number that Kirsten provides.

"Uh, Mrs. Cohen, this is a little uncomfortable to say the least, and I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds here but, Ed told me last night, about Ryan...possibly being his son. Ed and I talked a long time. But before we talked, right after you and Ryan left Ed's hotel room, I had already made the connection between Ryan and Ed, because of...Brad. The physical similarities between my nephew Brad and Ryan are astounding."

Kirsten takes a deep breath. Unsure of what to say, she waits for Carol to elaborate.

"And um," Carol stops for a moment, wondering why suddenly she can only think and utter one syllable words. "Well, I ...just wanted you to know that my brother is a phenomenal man. He's got a good heart and such passion for life. And he's a great father."

The receiving end of the phone is silent. Carol hopes that the other woman hasn't hung up, or worse, simply stopped listening.

"I just wanted to let you know that. That my brother is a good person."

Unable to come up with anything else to say, Kirsten offers, "Kirsten, please call me Kirsten."

Carol laughs nervously, "Ok, um, I'm Carol, so, please call me Carol."

Forced pleasantries exchanged, the two women fall back into an uneasy silence.

Carol awkwardly chatters, "We're taking the boys to the beach today. Do you know of any good beaches around here?" Good God, Carol thinks, slapping herself on the forehead, as if this woman cares right now about your vacation plans.

There is no response to her question and Carol is sure that Kirsten Cohen has her hand over the phone's receiver and is currently telling her husband that Ed Carden's sister is an absolute moron with the communication skills of a sixth grader.

"I have a beach." Kirsten's voice shakes Carol from her self-doubts.

"I mean, we live on the beach, our part is private. But the boys go, to the boardwalk, and other beaches, I could ask them, which are their favorites. I have a few, but I'm old. So..." Kirsten laughs, "My definition of what is good rarely is in agreement with theirs."

Carol relaxes a tiny bit. "Tell me about it," she tries to sound casual, genuine. This phone conversation has turned her into a high school sophomore, hoping to make friends with the popular girl that has just been assigned the seat next to her in Geometry. "I mean let's not even go into buying school clothes. God, what a nightmare."

"I've given up on my son Seth," Kirsten confesses, "I just give him the credit card and try not to look into the bags he brings home. And Ryan, all he ever wants is..."

Kirsten's sentence comes to a dead stop.

Carol feels a cold cloud seep into the phone, freezing time, freezing the simple banter.

She's scared to talk about him, Carol realizes. Fear, that's what has halted the woman's sentence.

"My brother Ed is a good person Kristen. He feels awful about not knowing about Ryan, about not being in his life. He's not going to do anything to hurt this boy."

"My son Seth is sick," Kirsten answers, her voice void of emotion. "And Ryan is physically and emotionally exhausted. I should go check on the boys."

"Of course," Carol readily agrees. "I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time. I'll give Ed the message."

Carol waits for a click.

"I could...I could call you back, about the beaches. Let you know what Ryan and Seth tell me."

Carol let's go of a relieved breath; thank God the woman is still willing to talk to her. "Yes. Thank you. I would really appreciate that."

This time Carol hears the expected click, but not before a quiet, "Goodbye Carol."

----------------------------------------

Ryan comes downstairs rubbing the top of his head. His hair is standing in twelve different directions, eyes puffy. He stops when he sees Kirsten. Stares at her. Let's his hand fall to his side. 

"Sit," Kirsten points to a chair at the breakfast bar. "I'm making you something to eat. Well, I'm toasting you something to eat. And then I'm going to wake up Sandy and the three of us are going to talk...to each other...about Mr. Carden, and about why you are living with us, and about what you want us to do to help you through this difficult time."

He looks at her.

Blinks.

"Ryan," Kirsten snaps a finger. "Sit down."

And down he sits.

-----------------------------------------

Ed comes back to the hotel room laden with bags of greasy hash browns, eggs and moderately soft biscuits.

Brad declares him a worthy provider.

Josh asks where the orange juice is.

Ed hands the boy a white milk and gives Carol a wayward side-glance. He can't do anything right. Never mind that Josh forgot to tell him to pick up juice.

"Beach," Brad muffles through a mouth full of egg. "I have come to surf."

"You've come to drown," Josh predicts, smirks at Brad, "Can I watch?"

"Mrs. Cohen called for you," Carol distracts Ed from the boys' chatter. "A little while ago. She asked if you could call her back this morning."

Ed gulps a bite of food, looks a bit startled. "Really? Did she say what she wants?"

Carol casts a quick peek at the boys. They're entertaining themselves, Brad eating and mimicking surfing, Josh watching him with bored amusement.

"Uh, she didn't say. She's very soft spoken. I think I might have frightened her."

Ed doesn't react to Carol's attempt at humor. Instead he studies his half-eaten sandwich.

"Ed, I told her that I knew, about Ryan. She seemed to take it well. She seems like a reasonable person."

"Yeah," Ed mutters, "Yeah, she's fine."

"But uh," Carol searches for the right words, "The thing is, I know that Ryan has only been with these people for a few months, but, she, uh, seems like she's really attached to this kid. It wasn't anything she said, it's more what she didn't say, or rather how she didn't say it."

Ed face is a blank.

Carol can't tell if he isn't listening or if he's confused by her double talk.

"What I mean is, she avoided talking about Ryan, as if bringing him up is a bad thing, as if it's not safe, talking about him...with us. I'm sure this situation has the Cohens reeling, but they are only foster parents. I've had friends Ed, who are foster parents."

Ed takes a sip of coffee. "What's your point Carol?"

Carol pushes her sandwich away. "Well, it's just that the way my friends talk about the kids under their care, they keep themselves detached Ed, because they know these kids could be removed at any moment. And it's not healthy for them or the kids to start thinking of the living arrangement as permanent. I mean they care about the different kids that stay with them, but my friends are careful not to give the kids false hope or scare them that they may never see their parents again."

Ed puts down his coffee, concentrates on his sister. "Again, what's your point Carol?"

He's glaring, Carol realizes. He's not waiting to hear what she has to say, not intrigued. He's angry.

Why is he suddenly getting angry?

She hardens her voice a little, "Well, Ed, what I'm trying to say is that I didn't hear that tone, that forced detachment, when I spoke to Mrs. Cohen. I didn't get that feeling last night either. In fact, at first, I assumed he was her son. I think there's something deeper going on in that house. I think that she genuinely cares for this kid. I think the Cohens are under the impression that Dawn isn't coming back for Ryan."

Carol watches her brother's reaction. He's a blank slate. But his neck is doing that stiffening thing it does when he's slowly but surely getting angrier and angrier. He jaw is tightening.

"You know all this from a phone conversation Carol? Wow, that's impressive. Maybe we should play the lottery today."

"What the hell is your problem?" Carol counters, responding to his sarcasm. She tries to keep her voice low, "What I'm trying to say Ed, is that I think the kid is living in a loving environment. And yes, we definitely need to check these people out and make sure they don't have dead bodies in their basement, but from what I saw yesterday, the boy is comfortable with Mrs. Cohen, she seems to really care about him and I thought you would be happy to know that, in my first impression, I think this kid is pretty well off." Carol shakes her head, regroups. "Now...I think he's pretty well off now. Compared to before, with Dawn and Russell. Obviously that living arrangement didn't work out too well."

Ed sits silently, toys with his coffee cup.

"Ed, what's going on with you? Are you mad at me for getting involved with this, talking with Mrs. Cohen? I just assumed because you flew us out here, you wanted me to help you with this, give my opinion."

Ed sets the coffee aside, glances at the boys who have now moved on to the television set. They aren't paying any attention to him and Carol. Thank God for cartoons.

"I think it's amazing, Carol, that you can sit there and feel comfortable telling me that a child I had no knowledge of fathering seventeen years ago, who grew up in an abusive home, most likely hungry or scared or certainly neglected to some degree or God knows what else, I think it's amazing that you can sit there and tell me after one phone call that you think his life is just fucking perfect."

Ed's vein on the side of his neck is popping up, his voice escalating with every sentence.

"What the fuck do you know about any of this Carol?"

It's that last fuck that gets the boys' attention.

"Dad?" Brad asks, his face full of confusion. "What's up?"

Josh stands up, moves to his aunt's side, puts his hand on her shoulder, glares at his father, head down, and eyes up.

"Dad," Brad repeats. "Why are you mad at Aunt Carol?"

Carol watches dumbfounded, as Ed appears to snap back into father mode. His body language immediately softens, the telltale vein retreats, the chin relaxes.

His smiles.

"Nothing, nothing Brad, I'm sorry about the swear word. Your aunt and I are talking about...politics... and I just got a little over-zealous. That's all. We're just having a heated debate."

Ed locks eyes with Carol, "Right Sis?"

Carol nods, continues to stare at Ed. "Uh, huh. Politics and religion Brad, never among friends."

Brad dismisses the whole thing, "Whatever. I don't understand that. Can we go to the beach now?"

Josh's hand is still on her shoulder. Carol reaches for it, pats it once. "Everything's fine sweetie. Go watch some TV. Your dad and I will keep our voices down."

Josh takes his hand away but doesn't move. "It's ok Josh," Carol assures the boy, "Go, finish your show."

Josh casts another skeptical glance at Ed but retreats back to the other side of the hotel room.

Ed stands up, grabs his cell phone off the table. "I'm calling Mrs. Cohen back."

He's in the hallway before he realizes that Carol has followed him out of the hotel room.

"Hey," she says gently, places a hand on his upper arm. "What was that back there? What was all that about? I've never heard you use language like that in front of the boys."

Ed's looks at her and Carol is struck by the clear contempt in his face.

"What was that?" Ed asks disbelievingly. "What was that? That was frustration. Can you understand why I'm frustrated Carol? Should I call you on the phone or is this conversation good enough? I'm frustrated Carol, because this kid and I are the victims here and no one seems to be keeping that in mind. Not once have the Cohens asked me what I think about any of this. Sandy Cohen showed me Ryan's picture and told me he would help me and then he took it all away, as if I am nothing more than just a huge inconvenience. And, I met him last night Carol. I met Ryan in earnest and God, it took everything I had not to touch him, and hug him and break down and tell him I am so fucking sorry that I wasn't there for him when he was trying to grow up. That I wasn't there to save him from his own mother and give him what I've given my boys. I told him I was sorry Carol, but I wasn't able to show him. And he looks so much like Brad that I feel like God himself is just playing with me, teasing me. Every time I look at Brad, I see that kid in the hotel room last night, asking me for his mother's phone number because she's too damn selfish or drunk to call him and give it to him herself. So I'm glad, Carol, that you think Kirsten Cohen is doing a hell of a job raising my first-born son. That just makes me feel so...much...better."

Somewhere in the middle of Ed's outburst, they've both started crying.

When he walks away, she doesn't follow him.

-------------------------------------------

"Ryan, did you want any more toast?"

He looks up at Kirsten over a bowl of Cap'n Crunch.

"No," he shakes his head slightly, "Um, no thank you."

"Ok then," she says decidedly, "I'm going to go get Sandy. I thought we could talk

outside. It's a beautiful morning."

Ryan stands up, heads for the sink with his cereal bowl.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Kirsten informs him before leaving for her bedroom.

Ryan rinses his bowl, places it in the dishwasher.

The appliance is overflowing with dirty dishes, so Ryan takes a minute to add detergent and run the machine before he goes out onto the patio and settles in one of the chairs circling the glass top table where he suspects Kirsten wants to hold her 'discussion'.

To Ryan, Kirsten seems dangerous this morning. Not his mom kind of dangerous, more like Dr. Kim kind of dangerous.

Kirsten's never made toast for him before.

Ryan doesn't particularly like toast, especially when it's a little burned.

But he ate it.

He was too afraid not to.

--------------------------------------

Kirsten does a quick check on Seth, then goes back downstairs to her bedroom.

Sandy is still asleep, a bulky, tangled lump of sheet, exposed bare legs, a relaxed face, jumbled black hair. He's a deep sleeper, always has been. Kirsten doubts her father can sleep as soundly as her husband. Their souls are too polar.

She climbs into bed with him and begin to flick at his ear.

Eventually he wakes up, rolls over and embraces her in a hug. He smiles a rumpled smile and Kirsten smiles back.

"Hey, you feeling any better?" Sandy asks. Kirsten has no doubt that he is referring to last night's quiet crying.

Yes, she feels better. The tears washed away a lot of indecision, released some internal conflict, established some confidence.

"I am," Kirsten nods. "In fact, I need you to get up, grab a cup of coffee and come have a talk with me and Ryan."

"Is Ryan up?" Sandy asks with a yawn. "I was hoping he'd sleep in."

"Well he didn't," Kirsten answers. "He's outside waiting for us."

Sandy begins the process of climbing out of bed. Getting old's a bitch.

"Before we go outside though Sandy, I want to talk about your approach with Ryan concerning Ed Carden."

Sandy finds a pair of his swimming trunks, slides them on. "Ok," he tentatively answers.

"I think we should be very careful not to demonize this man to Ryan. I've met him, I've met his boys and I can't ignore what my own eyes are telling me. I think Ryan is Ed Carden's son. I think we should focus on the positive aspects of this man in Ryan's life, not the negative, at least not in front of Ryan, not yet. Not unless we are absolutely sure that Ed Carden has nothing of value to offer Ryan. And we're not there yet Sandy. We're nowhere near there that."

Sandy slips on a t-shirt.

"Positive aspects huh?" he mutters.

"Yes," Kirsten answers, straightens her shoulders a bit.

"Hum," Sandy utters, "Positive as in, Ed entering our home without our knowledge, luring Ryan into a car, encouraging Ryan to call him behind our backs, inviting a child he doesn't know to live with him? Those positives honey?"

Kirsten sighs.

"Sandy, you met Ryan in a juvenile facility. You gave him your private phone number. You picked him up, put him in your car, drove forty odd miles, alone, with him in your vehicle, brought him to our house. Ryan slept here, unsupervised by an outside agency, and he began living with us Sandy, and all of this took place without his mother's consent."

Sandy stands there holding a beat up flip-flop.

Unblinking.

Deer in the headlights.

Looking at her.

And she can tell.

She's got him.

"So," Kirsten continues, "I'm thinking that it's time to just accept that some things have happened with Ed Carden that can not be changed. None of them were necessarily malicious in intent. All of them were most likely done because this man appears to be completely consumed by a desire to fix the last sixteen years as quickly as possible. I'm not saying that he's behaving in an entirely rational manner. And I agree with you, that we have to slow things down and focus on what's best for Ryan. I just think that while we are doing that, focusing on what's best for Ryan, that maybe we should include Ryan along for the ride."

She hands him his other flip-flop, pats him on the head.

"I'll see you outside honey."

---------------------------------------

The phone rings as Kirsten is entering the kitchen. She grabs it quickly, not wanting Sandy or Ryan to be the ones that answer it.

A man's voice politely asks for her. Kirsten recognizes it immediately.

She thanks him for returning her phone call and, before he has a chance to lead the conversation, she plunges in headfirst.

"When we got home last night, Ryan told me and my husband that you had invited him to live with you."

"Yes," Ed answers coldly. "That's correct."

"My husband and I and Ryan are about to sit down and discuss a few things. And then I'm going to have Sandy call you. I can't control what either of you talk about or what you decide is best for Ryan or how much anger and hostility is needed to work in the best interests of an almost grown young man, but I do know this, I'm taking Ryan's side and before you ask Ryan to give up anything or make any decision concerning his living conditions I would hope that you would make sure that you have taken Ryan's side as well. I believe that, more or less, is what you promised me last night."

"I don't understand," Ed responds with cool calm, "why you and your husband, after only a few months, would assume that Ryan automatically belongs with you. It doesn't make any sense to me, why you both seem to feel like I should just accept a secondary role in this child's life. That's what both of you want? Right? You want me to shut-up and go away and leave you alone."

"No," Kirsten disagrees, "That's not what I want. If you are Ryan's biological father, I want you and your sons to be a part of Ryan's life. But it's not what I want that's important. It's what Ryan wants."

"You're not willing to give me a chance to get to know him. How is he supposed to know what he wants unless you give us a chance to get to know each other? I want that paternity test. It's going to comeback positive and then I want to give him a chance to comprehend what my sons and I have to offer him before he makes a decision. That's fair and that's reasonable and I will not be made to feel guilty for wanting it."

Ed pauses. When he continues, he sounds worn out, genuinely confused.

"I don't understand why you and your husband act as if he belongs to you. You've only had him a few months."

Kirsten softens. "Ryan doesn't "belong" to us. I don't think that Ryan feels like he belongs to anyone. And that is something that his parents have done to him and I don't know if it can ever be undone. Ryan's in a good school. He's off the streets. He and my son are friends. He's learning how to solve problems without resorting to violence. And while I'm sure that you can offer him the same, is it fair to ask Ryan to start over yet again, in a strange state, completely isolated from what little he has left of his original family or this new life he's started? I just want what's best for Ryan and I know with all my heart that's all that Sandy has ever wanted for this child."

Sandy comes downstairs, sees her on the phone, and pretends to be interested in the cup of coffee he's pouring.

"I'll have my husband call you."

Kirsten ends the phone call.

----------------------------------------

Ryan sits outside waiting for the adults to show up, his bare toes nervously massaging the perfectly manicured grass.

Maybe they forgot about him. Maybe Seth got sick. Maybe Kirsten got distracted.

Maybe hell has frozen over.

Talk.

She wants to talk.

This is all his fault.

He wasn't drunk last night but he feels like he has to do similar emotional clean up.

Just like in May, at Juan Martinez's graduation party, when he got so fucking drunk that he made out with Juan's sister.

Well, more than made out.

Oops.

Sorry Juan.

Sorry Theresa for not walking you home and not being man enough to tell you why.

Sorry Mrs. Martinez for throwing up in your fruit bowl.

Twice.

Sorry Mom for staying out twenty-seven hours.

Sorry Juan's sister, for not wanting a long-term relationship just because of a little recreational sex. At least he called her later. He felt really bad.

Not sorry AJ for taking that twenty out of your pocket so I could buy Juan a present.

Sorry Trey, should have grabbed the other twenty for you.

Clean up 'cause he'd been stupid and lost control. Told himself he'd never do it again.

He spent the rest of May cleaning up in the wake of what he'd had done.

He feels the same way now.

Last night, like a drunken idiot, he'd told Kirsten way too much.

He lost control.

And now she wants to talk about it.

Seth.

What if she joins forces with Seth?

Seth can't even do sick right. He's supposed to be dying, not talking.

Seth and his goddamn late night inquisition.

What do you want Ryan, why are you letting my dad decide things? Talk, you should talk about it.

Little woodpeckers, pecking at his personal wall.

And so, what if Sandy is making decisions? At least he's no longer demanding answers.

That was not fun.

Rather have Sandy in charge than pissed off.

Ryan doesn't want to live with a pissed off Sandy, doesn't want to be the cause of Sandy's slamming door.

He wants the Sandy that drove him and his bike back to Newport. The Sandy that promises Kirsten he'll serve vegetables for dinner and then takes him and Seth to Bob's All You Can Eat Burritos.

Besides, it makes it a whole lot easier not to think when someone else is doing the thinking for you.

Sandy gets paid to think. He's better at it.

Ryan spots the Cohens coming, each of them carrying a cup of coffee.

He looks up at them with weary eyes.

Christ, he's already tired of talking.

And no one has even said a word yet.

--------------------------------

To be continued.......


	15. Best of Intentions Chapter Fourteen

Disclaimer: I used to own The OC. I lost it in a poker game along with my trucker hat.

Author's Note: We can add beating Ed to death with his son's book to the 'Ways To Kill Ed' list. Thanks **ben**. You never let us down.

_Thursday Afternoon_ won two Citrus Awards. If you voted for the story, thank you. There are so many good stories on The Citrus Award website. If you are looking for some quality fanfiction, you should go ch... ch.. check them out. Thanks for all your hard work **shelbecat**.

Oh look everyone, it's **crashcmb** the wonder beta. Hi **crashcmb**. Everyone wave to the beta hiding in the corner.

Um, for some reason the formatting won't let me use dashes anymore. I guess we have new borders. Huh. The ooooo maybe not so much love for them.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Best of Intentions

Chapter Fourteen

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sandy sits down at the table, casts a wary glance at Ryan.

Kirsten pulls out a chair, settles down next to Sandy.

"Hey, I can't find the handheld monitor," Sandy mentions to Ryan. "Have you seen it anywhere? I left it in the kitchen last night."

Ryan squints up at Sandy guiltily.

"Where'd you guys stash it?" Sandy raises his eyebrows. "I want it back."

Ryan scratches the back of his head and tries to plead Seth's case. "He hates it."

"I don't care," Sandy dismisses Ryan concerns. "He just got released from the hospital. I almost had to take him back to the emergency room last night. I need to know he's all right. Seth's going to have to deal with it."

"Right," Ryan recognizing a hopeless cause when he sees one. "I'll go get it."

As he disappears into the house Kirsten offers, "He seems a little better this morning."

"Yeah," Sandy reflects, "I guess. But something's off. I can't quite put my finger on it. Something about his body language. I don't know. I noticed it last night and I hope it's just exhaustion but, I don't know..."

Kirsten plays with her mug of coffee, turning it around, studying the sides.

"He must be so confused Sandy. I can not imagine what is going on inside his head."

"So this is fun, huh?" Sandy perks up, claps his hands once. "Raising two teenage boys? This is why we got married right?"

Kirsten throws him a 'you have got to be kidding' look and says, "I was speaking to Ed Carden on the phone, just now, in the kitchen."

"I was waiting for this," Sandy sighs.

"He really wants the paternity test."

"That's just great," Sandy scoffs. "Because Ryan was under the impression last night that Ed was going to back off. I can't stand this guy Kirsten, he's playing around with all of us. He's stringing Ryan along. God, he had Ryan calling him behind our backs. He's bringing his kids into it. And I know that you want me to remain objective for Ryan's sake, but honey I swear, there is something about this guy that just sets me off."

"I know," Kirsten acknowledges her husband's frustrations. "I know that Sandy, and I know that your first instinct is to protect Ryan from what you feel is a threat, but we should do the paternity test. Ryan has a right to know if this man is his biological father and we should know too honey, because by default we are going to be a big part of helping define Ed and Ryan's relationship. If Ed is Ryan's father, do you actually want to be the one responsible for turning Ryan against him?"

Sandy bobs his head back and forth, asks sarcastically, "Do you seriously want me to answer that?"

"Yes," Kirsten leans close to him. "Yes. I want you to answer that?"

Sandy gives up, "Ok, fine, no I don't want that responsibility. But I'm not going to back down from anything if I feel like Ryan is at risk for harm. Nothing. I don't care if this guy turns out to be the next Pope, Kirsten. I mean it, I will not allow him to do anything that's going to harm Ryan."

The back door closes and Ryan makes his way across the lawn.

"I know that Sandy," Kirsten keeps her voice low, "and Ryan does too. That's why we have to be so careful."

"This kid can't seem to catch a break."

"This could be a break," Kirsten reiterates her feelings concerning Ed Carden, "I think we owe it to Ryan to find out."

Sandy nods.

Ryan's close, almost at the table, the monitor in his hand.

"Sorry," he says apologetically as he returns it to his foster father.

"It's ok Ryan," Sandy assures him.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Carol finds Ed in the lobby of the hotel, sitting in one of the hotel's comfortably padded chairs.

He looks up as she approaches and then looks away again.

Carol takes a deep breath.

"Hi," she says softly.

He nods, doesn't answer. He's mad at her. He's been reacting to anger with her the same way for the past thirty odd years. Funny, how anger can revert you back to trusted and true childish defenses.

Carol sits down beside her brother.

"Something is going on with you. And it's changing you. And that is scaring me Ed, because I have never been as uncomfortable with you as I was in that hallway just now."

Ed shifts his weight, still doesn't look at her.

"So," Carol continues, "what I'm wondering is...if what is happening to you isn't something that hasn't been building for months, and this, this strange and surprising and mind-blowing thing, of having another child, isn't pushing you off an edge that you have been on for months."

Ed laughs to himself, shakes his head. "Everything is about Sara's death, isn't it Carol. That's what you are eluding to, right? Poor Ed, he's finally losing it. He's finally headed for a breakdown. Well screw you Carol, because not everything that happens to me, not every reaction I have, has to be related to Sara's death. Maybe I'm just mad as hell at Dawn for not telling me and frustrated with the Cohens for being in the way and furious with myself because I can not understand how a human being can exist that I am responsible for and I never, not once, ever felt his existence."

Ed finally glances at his sister, "I knew that Sara was pregnant before she told me. Every time, even..." he stalls before continuing, "even this last time, before the accident. I knew. I could just feel it. I just knew and I didn't know with Dawn."

Carol offers, "But you and Sara were married Ed. You can't expect the connection that you had with Sara to be the same as the craziness of you and Dawn's relationship."

Ed raises his head, looks straight into Carol's eyes. "I knew I didn't use a condom. Even then, I knew there was a risk. I never asked Dawn if she was on anything. I didn't care. I didn't bother to think about it. I just assumed..."

"If this is about assigning yourself guilt Ed, it has to stop now. Because it is absolutely insane to sit here and second-guess something that happened seventeen years ago. What's done is done. Tell the boys about Ryan, teach them to be sexually responsible, let Ryan know that you want to be a part of his life, figure out a way to communicate with the Cohens, but move forward, because you have enough on your plate right now, at this moment, without going backwards in time."

Ed looks away.

"I mean it Ed, either talk to me about what is happening with you or work it out on your own. But you are not acting like my brother that left Illinois a few days ago and it's only going to be a matter of time before it affects the boys. They don't need this Ed, this angry, volatile parent. You're everything. You're it for them. They need you to be stable. And no, that's not entirely fair to you because God knows you deserve to be allowed a chance to process things in whatever way is best for you. But you brought us here Ed, you chose to bring us to California and now the boys are here and I'm here and you're stuck with me and my big ass mouth and pushy opinions."

Ed smiles, nods. "Yep, screwed myself on that one, huh?"

Carol smiles with fake smugness, shrugs, "I'd prefer to say that you were craving my intellect and sagacious older sister advice."

She stands up, tells him to take his time, the boys are watching cartoons, she has a book to read. They'll wait for him.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

He looks so young to Kirsten this morning. Hair still frazzled, feet bare, his frame seemingly swallowed up by the patio chair he is slouching in.

It's easy, sometimes, to forget that Ryan is still very much a child. Different than Seth, but still a child. His age, it comes out in other ways with Ryan. More like in flashes of unguarded moments. Like now, sitting in this chair, looking at her and Sandy, pretending not to be nervous.

"Ed Carden wants a paternity test Ryan," Kirsten says. "I spoke with him again this morning. What do you think about that?"

Ryan casts a glance at Sandy.

His foster father has his head down, not reacting to Kirsten's comment.

"Ryan?" Kirsten waits for him to return his gaze to her, "How do you feel about getting a paternity test?"

Ryan looks again at Sandy.

"Um," Ryan starts and then stops. "Uh."

He looks helplessly at Sandy.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_What the fuck?'_ thinks Ryan as he struggles to make eye contact with his foster father.

_Where the hell are you Sandy? Thought you had my back. Thought you were all about the restraining order and the 'Let me handle this Ryan.'_

"Ryan."

Kirsten calls his name again.

He blinks at her, looks back again at Sandy.

What should he say? What answer do they want?

Why isn't Sandy talking?

Ryan glances at the baby monitor, wills Seth to wake up. That'll distract them, give him time to figure out the right answer.

"Ryan."

God, she's still calling his name.

_'Ok, think,'_ he tries to calm himself down.

Sandy's not talking.

Kirsten's not shutting up.

Seth's not waking up.

"Well..." Ryan tries to formulate an answer but gives up. He glances again at Sandy, still with his head down.

This is bullshit Ryan decides. Kirsten is totally controlling Sandy.

Ryan stretches his leg under the table and gives Sandy a light kick in the shin, causing Sandy's head to pop up in surprise.

Ryan seizes the moment, rushes out a "What do you think?" at Sandy.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sandy rubs at his shin, glares at Ryan.

Tricky little devil.

Nice touch on the kicking.

If Kirsten saw it, she's not reacting.

But she is staring at him and Sandy knows that stare. He scoots his chair a little further away from Ryan, out of harm's way, smiles innocently and says, "We want to hear what you think Ryan."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ryan blows out a breath and recognizes the situation for what it is.

He's on his own.

Sandy won't be jumping in to take over for him.

Damn.

He was counting on Sandy running things.

He tries baiting his foster father into the conversation.

"I thought you guys decided that we should, uh, get a restraining order."

"Well, actually," Kirsten steals a glance in Sandy's direction, "we decided that we should talk to you first Ryan. We thought you might be a little curious to find out whether or not Mr. Carden is your biological father. Are you curious?"

Ryan squirms around in his chair.

"Uh."

He gives up trying to figure out what she wants to hear, gives up trying to figure out what Sandy wants him to say.

He drops his head and shuts down.

Two can play at Sandy's game.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Ryan?"

Kirsten watches her foster son's emotional retreat. Head down, body hunched over, no movement.

He's like a possum in the middle of the road, only infinitely more frustrating.

"Ryan, come on," Kirsten hears Sandy come alive, trying to cajole Ryan into some form of verbal communication. "Come on, we only want to know what your feelings are about a paternity test. That's all. No big deal."

Ryan slowly raises his head, peeks out at Sandy through his haphazard bangs.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ryan can feel his blood pressure rising.

What happened between last night and this morning?

Last night, Sandy had his back, Sandy was driving the bus, Sandy was the man with the plan.

Sandy was going to decide stuff.

It was the perfect plan.

Why is everything back on him? Why is he suddenly the one who has to figure all this out again? He doesn't want to figure anything out.

He's tired.

Why can't they see how tired he is of all of this?

"I thought you said you were getting a restraining order?" Ryan repeats to Sandy.

"Well, I can still," Sandy finally breaks his silence on the matter, "but before I do that Ryan, we just want to make sure that we are doing the right thing for you. Do you want me to get a restraining order?"

"I....guess," Ryan stammers. God does he have to spell it out for these people? Didn't they cover this last night?

"Yes," Ryan says a little more forcefully, "Yes, get the restraining order. I mean, I thought we decided last night that I'm staying here...with you guys. This guy doesn't matter, right?"

Why are they changing their minds? Why isn't Sandy pushing to get rid of this guy like he was last night?

What's going on?

Where did they disappear to last night?

What did they talk about?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kirsten listens and watches the exchange between her husband and foster son.

Listen and watches.

Carefully.

And gets it.

A bug slamming against a windshield. Ice cream falling off a cone onto hard concrete.

A moment of crystal clear insight.

Ryan's equating the paternity test with parenting.

Kirsten tries to assure him, "Ryan, we aren't talking about where you are going to live. You live here. This has nothing to do with where you live now or where you are going to live later."

He shifts his eyesight to her.

"We're only asking if you would like to find out if Mr. Carden is your biological father."

Sandy clears his throat, causing Ryan to glance back at him.

"It's ok to want to know kid. I have to say, if I was in your shoes, I'd probably be a little curious. Hell, I'd be a lot of curious. It's perfectly understandable to want to know."

Ryan sits back in his chair and alternates his gaze between Sandy and Kirsten.

Smoke might as well be coming out of Ryan's ears because Kirsten can practically see the wheels spinning.

A million dollars.

She'd give a million dollars for just one day, just one day to know what in the hell goes on inside this kid's brain.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ryan sits there, unmoving, gazing down at the grass, unsure of what to say.

It's a little hard to formulate an answer when you're still confused about the question.

Just the paternity test.

That's all their asking.

That's all they want from him.

Yes or no.

Yes.

If he says yes, will they think he doesn't really want to live with them? 'Cause he does, really want to live with them. Yes isn't worth leaving Newport.

No.

If he says no, they won't believe him. Because shit, who wouldn't want to know? If he says no, they'll probably hire a psychologist and have him evaluated. A normal person would be curious.

He is curious.

Just not curious enough to ruin...this.

This...Newport.

The Cohens and Seth and the kitchen in the morning and the dinner table at night and Sandy watching his first game from the sidelines and Kirsten asking where his soccer uniform is so she can make sure it's clean and does he have a bottle of water in case he gets thirsty. Seth and him walking around campus or racing along the pier or sitting in the living room or vegging in the pool. Waiting for Marissa to call. Kissing her when they manage to be alone. Holding her hand or feeling that jolt when he sees her.

"Ryan," Kirsten draws his attention back to her.

"It's not just Mr. Carden. He has sons Ryan, those little boys. We'll do whatever you want, we just want to make sure you understand, if we do file a restraining order, we just want to make sure you understand the ramifications of what that means, of what keeping this man completely out of your life, what that means for you. This has to be your choice. Sandy and I can't make it for you. It's not our choice to make. It's not our life, it's yours."

He looks at her. Thinks about what she is saying.

That kid looked just like him. Trey doesn't even look that much like him.

How can that happen, that a perfect stranger can look more like you than your own brother?

Ryan scratches at his bangs. He's starting to lose it. He can feel it. He needs to stand up, step away, and get some space.

What the fuck do they want him to say?

Yes he's curious; no he doesn't want to leave.

Yes, he knows, he understands, he gets it. He has new brothers.

He has brothers besides Trey.

Brothers that look like him.

He gets it.

He got it yesterday. He understands.

He's just so fucking tired of thinking about it.

Why the fuck don't they get that?

Ryan concentrates on Kirsten.

She's driving the bus.

Sandy's license has been revoked big time.

New game plan.

She wants him to want the paternity test. He sees it in her eyes. She wants him to be normal, and be curious and think about long term consequences and sibling bonding and all that other shit.

He gives up, just wanting this conversation to be over.

"Ok," he nods, "Um, yeah, let's do the test."

Kirsten smiles. Sandy stays still.

The monitor crackles to life.

A loud thump, a hoarse, "Ow!"

The Cohens start to scatter.

Ryan tries to clear his head.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Upstairs, so fast, two at a time, Sandy's convinced he could complete in Olympic stair jumping.

Kirsten is somewhere behind him, trying to keep up.

She heard it too.

Seth's hurting.

Sandy bursts into his son's room to find Seth on the floor, beside his bed, clutching his stomach, scooting away from a small pool of vomit.

He looks up at Sandy.

"I'm sorry." He points at the puke with a shaky finger, "I got sick."

Kirsten pushes past Sandy, kneels by Seth's side.

He's dazed, half out of it. Kirsten uses her hand to steer her son's head in her direction, forcing him to focus.

"Hi," he says unsteadily, as if he's just noticed her presence in the room.

"Seth," Kirsten pushes his hair back, feels his forehead for a fever, "why are you on the floor honey?"

"Um," Seth flounders, "About that. Don't really know."

Sandy assists his wife in helping Seth back on his bed.

He curls up in a ball, his arms wrapped his mid-section.

"Does you stomach hurt honey?" Kirsten tries to keep her tone calm, collected.

Seth nods, curls up tighter.

"Did you fall out of bed Seth?" Kirsten continues to question him. "Do you remember if you hit your stomach when you fell?"

Seth doesn't answer; lays there with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Seth," Kirsten leans in close, "Honey, this is important. Did you hit your stomach?"

She casts nervous glances at Sandy. When Seth still doesn't answer, Kirsten tells Sandy quietly, "We should bring him in to the hospital, make sure he's ok."

Seth's head attempts a swift pop up.

"What? No, Mom. It's cool." He uses Kirsten's shoulder as leverage to heave himself into a sitting position. "I'm fine." His body lists slightly and he shakes his head trying to wake himself up.

"Sandy," Kirsten ignores Seth's input, "I'd feel better if we took him in."

"What!" Seth raises his voice. "What? Mom, get a grip. I rolled out of bed. I was probably still asleep. I'm fine."

Sandy looks back and forth between a concerned Kirsten and a horrified Seth.

"Uh," Sandy tries to find a compromise. "Seth, in the hospital, did they talk to you about contact sports? No jarring of your stomach."

"Yeah," Seth rubs his forehead, yawns. "The spleen thing."

"So, do you have any sharp pains?"

Seth pats his stomach, seems to consider his father's question quite seriously. "No, I think it hurts because..." Seth looks pointedly at his mother, "I...just....threw...up."

Sandy cringes. Not a good time for the sarcasm son, he thinks.

"That's enough Seth," Sandy says. "You mother has a perfectly valid concern and I think you owe her an apology, especially since, in all likelihood, someone other than yourself will be cleaning up your lovely deposit."

"Yeah, whatever, sorry Mom." Seth mumbles, clearly not sorry in the least bit.

"Seth!" Sandy raises his voice.

"I'm sorry," Seth whines an apology and Sandy realizes the teenager is on the verge of tears. "I don't want to go back to the hospital. I'm sorry. I hate this."

If Kirsten's feelings were hurt, she's not showing it. She pats Seth on the back, feels his forehead again.

"It's ok sweetie," she coddles. "I know you don't feel well."

Sandy can't decide if he should roll his eyes or be touched by this moment between his wife and son.

Kirsten is reaching for the thermometer but Sandy can already tell where things are headed. She shakes her head at him, grabs the Motrin.

The bottle is getting low.

Seth tells her, "I want bubblegum flavor next time mom. I don't think the grape is working."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sandy goes down the stairs, finds Ryan sitting anxiously at the bottom of them.

"Is Seth ok?" he asks quickly. He stands up, peers around Sandy's body.

"I think so," Sandy says, then reconsiders his answer. "Well, he's a wreck, but, in terms of general overall health and safety, I think we're ok for now."

They stand in silence, still looking up the stairs.

"So..." Sandy lets the sentence die. He has no idea what to say. He just can't stand silence sometimes.

"I have practice," Ryan says quietly.

"What?" Sandy asks.

"I um, if Seth is ok, I should, uh, go to practice. I have practice today."

Ryan glances at his foster father, "Unless, I mean with Seth sick, I shouldn't go."

"No," Sandy snaps to attention. God, by all means go to practice Sandy thinks. Please, go, do something normal, do something that will stop making this house feel like ER meets the Twilight Zone.

"I mean yes, yes, go to practice. I think that's a great idea. Hey, I'll drive you, I'll stay and watch."

Ryan stares at him, cringes slightly.

"Um, no one really ever stays and watches."

And, everyone on varsity has a car and drives himself, or goes with each other, or has a limo drop them off.

Ryan doesn't want to hurt Sandy's feelings. Social embarrassment aside, he could use the down time, away from everyone, away from talking and being looked at like he's a grenade with the pin half pulled.

His bike sounds just fine.

"It's cool, I'll just take my bike."

"No, don't be silly," Sandy sounds more resolute. "I'm home all day. Let me talk to Kirsten. Take the Rover to practice. If we need anything, we'll take my car. You're only going to be gone a few hours, right?"

"Yeah," Ryan nods.

"Great," Sandy claps his hands together. "I'll go tell Kirsten."

Ryan heads for the pool house, Sandy back upstairs.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

With Seth asleep, Kirsten sips a second cup of coffee in the kitchen, watching through the small window for Ryan to emerge from the pool house.

"I thought we were going to talk to him this morning Sandy."

Sandy looks up from the paper.

"We did talk to him honey. He agreed to the paternity testing. I shut my mouth and allowed it. I thought you'd be happy."

Kirsten shakes her head. "This isn't about me being happy."

"Well, whatever," Sandy flips to another page. "He said yes. Let the kid go to practice, get rid of some pent up energy."

"Last night in the car Sandy, he told me that he thinks we are only letting him stay here because we feel sorry for him."

Sandy looks up from the newspaper.

"Ryan said that to you?" Sandy asks amazed.

Kirsten takes another sip of coffee, "Well, not in those exact words. He said something about us being too nice to kick him out."

Sandy closes the paper.

"He said that, huh?"

"Yes," Kirsten nods. "And a few other things. I don't think he has any idea how much we want him here. Last night he acted like it's a miracle he's still living with us. I'm concerned, about how long he has been wondering if we really want him. Does he wake up every morning thinking about it? Can you imagine what kind of stress he's putting on himself?"

"Well, we should talk to him today, then. More."

"Yes," Kirsten has to keep from laughing, or walking over to Sandy and hitting him up side the head. "I'm glad you suggested it."

Ryan stops in the kitchen to say goodbye before heading off to soccer practice.

Kirsten hands him the keys to the Rover, asks him to stop for gas before coming home. Gives him a credit card.

It's already hot outside Kirsten informs him, and places a bottle of water in the side pocket of his gym bag.

Ryan smiles, tells her thank you.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kirsten watches the clock.

Ryan's been gone an hour.

Sandy is on the couch, reading a book. He rarely does that anymore. Not since beginning his new job.

Seth is still sleeping.

It's taking all of her will power not to wake her son up and shove some food inside of him.

He isn't eating, he's vomiting again, he's not drinking enough, he's falling out of bed onto a stomach that could explode any minute, he's got a fever.

If she mentions her concerns to Sandy he'll say something like, 'Honey, Seth is sixteen, he's capable of telling us if his body is in trouble. If he's hungry, or needs something, he'll let us know.'

Kirsten knows she's driving herself crazy. She consoles herself that at least she can still recognize the symptoms.

She glances at the clock again. She forgot to ask Ryan about the beaches. For the past hour, she's been thinking about beaches and little boys and about big boys, and mononucleosis and insecurities.

Kirsten walks into the living room to tell Sandy something, but then gets distracted by what he's reading.

It's not actually a book but one of those heavy bounded court ruling decision research things he's always leaving around the house. She's sure they have a formal name; she just doesn't care what it is. She leans over sideways to read the entire title.

_Custodial Rights of Non-biological Parents In The State of California._

Sandy hasn't left the house so she's guessing he's had it stashed in the den for months now, or in his car, or somewhere easily accessible, since Ryan has come to live with them.

"Hey," he looks up at her. "Just, uh, polishing up before I make," he uses his fingers to simulate quotations signs, "The Phone Call."

"I'm going to call her back." Kirsten offers.

"Her?" Sandy asks confused.

"The sister," Kirsten clarifies.

"Why?" Sandy closes the heavy volume.

"I told her I'd tell her a good beach to bring the boys to."

Sandy looks at her, still not comprehending what she is telling him.

"When I called earlier, I promised to call back and tell her a good beach to take the kids to."

"You're their cruise director now?" Sandy raises his eyebrows at her.

Kirsten takes a deep breath.

"I'm going to suggest that she bring the boys here. To the house, to our beach, for lunch."

"Are you kidding?" Sandy asks and Kirsten wants to say, 'Yes Sandy, because that's what I've been doing this entire time, treating this whole situation as a joke. Ha! I'm so funny.'

"No Sandy, I'm not kidding. We have a beach. We have food. She has little boys that look like Ryan."

"Kirsten," Sandy sits on edge of the couch. "You can't just invite them over. I thought we were letting Ryan make the decisions? You asked me to step aside and consider what Ryan wants and I have. Now you want to spring these kids on him, when he comes home from practice?"

Kirsten stares at him.

It sounded so good to her a few minutes ago when she made up her mind to do it. Now, maybe not so much.

"Honey, that's not fair." Sandy stands up. "I thought we were going to talk to him some more."

Kirsten remains silent.

Sandy didn't meet those boys in person, hasn't seen them, hasn't heard them, hasn't watched them. He doesn't understand. He didn't see the little one look up at Ryan, hand the teenager his skateboard, eagerly await Ryan's approval, and smile when he got it.

Sandy didn't see that.

"Kirsten, I mean it. I'm not backing down this time. No." He shakes his head and puts his arms around his stomach.

He looks like a three-year-old Seth, reluctant to go to the dentist. Or a sixteen-year-old Seth, reluctant to do...anything.

"Sandy, I just think that Ryan should spend some time with those little boys before they go back home."

Kirsten leaves out the part that Ed Carden planted the seed in her brain. It makes her feel disloyal.

"Could we maybe do the paternity test first?"

Sandy's voice rises in volume.

"Could we maybe take things one step at a time?"

His hands are getting in on the action now, twirling, helping to plead his position.

Kirsten half expects a jury to knock on their door, sit down on the couch and watch the proceedings as they unfold.

"Am I the only one who's reacting rationally and trying to think before I act? Ryan's calling this guy, your calling this guy, this sister is calling you for Best Of Newport advice."

Sandy motions around the room.

"Am I the only one who is still living in reality? What do you want Kirsten? Do you want Ryan listening to me? Do you want Ryan listening to you? Or, do you want to take your own advice and let Ryan tell us what he wants to do?"

He throws his hands up in disgust.

"I give up. I don't know what you want Kirsten, you're all over the place. God knows Ryan won't tell me what he wants. I have a damn good idea what Ed Carden wants and I'm certainly not being allowed to do what I want. So I tell you what honey, call the sister, bring those kids on over. Let's just balance one more load on Ryan's shoulders. Let's make sure he gets to know one more set of brothers he can only see through arranged, supervised visits. Absolutely. Why the hell not!"

"God!" Sandy continues, his frustration overtly evident. "I give up. I don't know what you want me to do Kirsten. Do you want me to fight for Ryan or turn him over to these people?"

"What do you want me to do Kirsten?"

She knows it's hopeless. He can't stop thinking like a lawyer. She can't stop thinking like a mother. He only sees Ed Carden as a threat. She wishes she could do the same.

"Kirsten," Sandy voice softens, "I'm sorry honey. I just...I thought we were going to worry about the paternity test. I didn't expect...this."

"You're right, " she tells him, even if she's not sure if he is. "I hadn't considered how Ryan would feel when they left California. You're right Sandy. Maybe it's better if Ryan doesn't see any of them again, not until he decides what role he wants to play in their lives."

And now that she's said it out loud, it does make sense.

So, she supposes, they'll wait.

Wait for Ryan to come home from practice, take a shower, eat some lunch.

Then they'll try talking again, assure him he belongs with them, make sure he understands they want him.

Ryan will listen, because that's what Ryan does. He listens and he watches and then he listens some more.

Eventually, Sandy or she will say, "What do you want Ryan? What do you want to do?"

And it will all start over again.

Kirsten's thoughts wander back to earlier that day. Ryan is still a child; he just shows it in different ways than Seth.

They've spent too much time trying to make Ryan communicate with them the same way Seth does. They need to find out what he's feeling and talking isn't getting the job done.

Time to get creative.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

To be continued........

I miss my dashes. The ooooooooooooooooooo just don't feel the same. Sigh.


	16. Best of Intentions Chapter Fifteen

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The OC.

**Author's Note:** Well, I don't want to name names but some of you have really been turning in extra credit. Don't think I haven't noticed and please realize that I enjoy every single comment. It's a very gratifying feeling knowing that what you're writing is being read and appreciated. I want to thank everyone for investing time in this never-ending melodrama.

Welcome back **AA**. Missed you. And yes, I did think that you had abandoned me. So glad you didn't.

Special shout-out to **Joey**... just because. And Sister Rose, for the inspiration behind xxxxxxxx.

Reposted today because **Gibasi **was kind enough to save me from my own inabilities. I also reposted this because the first post was incomplete. This web site is seriously starting to tick me off. Words keep diappearing from the preview to the post and other little annoying things. Grrrrrrrr.

And last but not least, let's all stand up and do the wave for **crashcmb**, the wonder-beta.

Sorry this update took a little longer. I slept last night. Bad me.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Fifteen

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Sandy stares at his cell phone.

Root canal time.

He calls Ed Carden.

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Kirsten fills up her bag with sunscreen, diet Coke and several useless magazines. It's been forever since she went to the beach.

"Did you get a hold of him?" She asks Sandy on her way out of the house.

"Yes," Sandy answers, less than enthusiastic.

"Is he going to go for it?" Kirsten swings the floppy beach bag on her shoulder, digs in it for a pair of sunglasses.

"Evidently." Sandy follows her down the hall into the foyer. "But who knows with that guy. He said he would contact his attorney and let me know if there were _any problems_." Sandy pronounces the last two words as if they were gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe.

"You're taking the higher road honey, I'm so proud of you," Kirsten tries some last minute ego boosting.

"Yep," Sandy isn't buying it. He sounds dejected and Kirsten doesn't blame him. Sandy's used to being in charge when it comes to decisions regarding Ryan. He's had to be. Dawn turned her son over to him. Before Ed came along, no one has questioned Sandy's authority concerning Ryan. Now Sandy has to compromise, work with others, and it's clear he's not happy about it.

"Are you surprised," Kirsten tries to refocus Sandy, have him concentrate on the actions they are taking instead of the capitulation it represents, "that Ed agreed to our suggestion?"

Sandy takes a second to consider her question.

"I think agreeing to the paternity testing is temporarily appeasing him but I don't trust him. Actions speak louder than words Kirsten, and Ed's action have been questionable at best."

Sandy stops talking.

It's difficult when he's this subdued and serious and Kirsten wonders if Sandy's disappointed with her meddling, privately angry with her, just unwilling to express it.

But he hugs her before she leaves. Tells her to be careful.

And tells her that he loves her.

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Ryan walks into the house hot, sweaty and dirty from a two and a half hour practice session. It was hard today, getting warmed up and ready to play. He was more exhausted than he realized.

He goes into the kitchen to grab a drink before heading to the pool house for a shower.

The house is quiet. The cool of the air conditioning is drying the sweat on his body, making him shiver slightly. He opens up the fridge, leans in to find a drink. When he stands back up straight and closes the refrigerator door, he is surprised to see Sandy there.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sandy exclaims.

Ryan self-consciously raises his right hand to his eye and the tender flesh surrounding it.

_Oh Sandy, Ryan thinks, where to begin. Well, my entire team hates me and thinks I'm white trash. Luke has most of them convinced I'm having sex with your son and basically at this point I'm only playing soccer because I enjoy pissing people off with my mere presence._

"I um, ran into an elbow at practice."

"You ran into an elbow?" Sandy clarifies, clearly not buying the story for a second.

Ryan unscrews the lid of the drink, takes a sip. "Yep."

Sandy raises his eyebrows at Ryan, "Did the elbow have a name?"

"No," Ryan takes another sip. "It had a friend though." Ryan lifts his shirt slightly, revealing a bruise above his waistline. "Ran into a knee too."

Sandy pinches the bridge of his nose. "Did you get into a fight Ryan?"

Ryan picks his gym bag up, starts to head out of the kitchen "Nope." He smirks up at Sandy, "But someone may have accidentally run into my elbow too...and my foot."

"Soccer's a rough sport," Sandy ruminates.

"Yes it is," Ryan agrees, exiting the kitchen with a smile still on his face.

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Sandy waits a half hour for Ryan to come back from the pool house. When the teenager doesn't show up, Sandy grabs the baby monitor and hikes off in search of him.

He finds Ryan sitting in one of the pool house chairs, freshly showered, in jeans and an ever-present wifebeater. He jumps up when Sandy comes in.

"Hey," he greets Sandy.

"Are you hiding out?" Sandy teases. He's careful though, to sound overly casual, not make Ryan feel pressured.

"No," Ryan shakes his head, "Uh, just, you know, getting cleaned up."

Sandy sits down on the bed. The comforter is pulled over it, pillow tucked neatly.

Sandy is fairly sure that Seth has never made his bed a single day in his life. He's also fairly sure that Ryan has never missed making his a single day since moving in with them.

It's a miracle these two kids click like they do.

It's not a miracle, it's damn lucky. They are all damn lucky this kid is living with them. It's about time Ryan knows it.

"Ryan," Sandy motions at the chair, "Sit back down a second. I have something I want to talk to you about."

The teenager eases himself down slowly, eyes Sandy wearily.

"Ryan, Kirsten told me last night you shared some things with her, some concerns about your place, here, in our home."

Ryan shakes his head, "I was just being stupid. I was tired." He jerks his head up, "Is she upset?"

Sandy realizes that he hasn't explained Kirsten's absence.

"No, not at all. Kirsten had to run out for the afternoon. We'll talk about where she is in a few minutes."

Ryan stares at him, waiting for Sandy to get to the point.

"Ryan, I've tried to make a home for you here. Kirsten and I and Seth, we all have."

"I know," Ryan rushes. "I know that, you guys have been great."

"No," Sandy shakes his head, "I don't think you do know that Ryan, because Kirsten definitely got the impression last night that you think you're only here out of pity or charity."

Ryan drops his head, "No, I didn't mean that. I didn't mean any of it last night. I was tired. I wasn't thinking straight. I'm sorry."

"I've never brought anyone else home Ryan, I've never written my personal cell phone number on the back of a card and given it to anyone. I've never asked my wife and son to take a chance like I did with you. To just suspend common sense and say to hell with the rules and screw it and let's just see where this ride takes us."

Sandy captures Ryan's eyes with his own. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Ryan nods.

"Don't belittle what the four of us have managed here Ryan, because you're not just selling yourself short, your throwing away what we have all worked so hard to build. It's not just about you just fitting in or not getting in the way any more. It's about Seth having his first real friend and Kirsten having the chance to share her home with a child she's coming to care more and more about every minute and me being allowed to do the one thing I could never do in my job before. Make a difference that I don't sit up nights wondering about. Making a real difference Ryan, and that is an opportunity that you have given me. I don't want you to spend one more minute living under my roof assuming that you are only being tolerated. Kirsten and I only have a few years before you and Seth go to college. I don't want to waste those years on regrets and guilt that have no foundation."

Sandy stops to take a breath. Ryan is sitting quietly, managing to maintain eye contact. It has to be hard on him. It has to be a personal record.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you Ryan? This is important. You have to get past the idea that you are here out of charity. That has to stop now. We can't move forward until it does. Do you understand?"

Ryan nods, says quietly, "Yes."

Sandy holds out a finger, "Don't say yes unless you mean it kid. Don't waste either of our time. Don't just say what you think I want to hear. Do not lie to me."

Sandy lowers his voice, asks Ryan softly, "Do you understand why you are here Ryan? In Newport, living with us?"

"Yes," Ryan shakes his head up and down. When he looks again at Sandy his eyes are watery. "I understand."

"Ok," Sandy nods. "Ok."

He stands up, motions for Ryan to do the same.

"Come in the kitchen," he tells Ryan. "I have something I want to show you."

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Kirsten climbs out of the Range Rover and shields her eyes from the sun.

God she hates public beaches. They're so...public.

Kids are running around everywhere. People are propelling themselves on all sorts of things with wheels. Sea gulls are walking around in angry mobs, either yelling at each other or harassing sunbathers for bits of food.

She looks around for Carol and the kids. There's a hot dog stand that has been on this beach since she and Sandy and Seth first moved from Berkley. It has the best damn kosher hotdogs in the world. Well, according to Sandy it does.

Kirsten's never eaten a hot dog or quite frankly ever wanted to. 

She told Carol Carden to meet her under the awning.

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"I don't understand who we are meeting," Josh says for the fourth time.

He's driving Carol nuts.

Brad's enthralled with the ocean, not taking his eyes off it, watching everything around him. He hasn't said a word since they got here. He's been to the ocean many times, but it never loses its spell over him. Sara always joked that Brad would some day end up in an exotic location selling overpriced surfboard wax to tourists and living out of a hut. Carol doesn't doubt that it may happen. She just wishes Sara had stuck around long enough to see it.

Josh hasn't shut up. Carol's not sure if the kid comprehends that he is no longer in Illinois. The ocean may as well be a sea of corn for all the attention he's paying to it.

"Why are we meeting this lady? She's Dad's friend, right? Dad's not here. Who's she going to talk to? Why are we wasting time meeting her instead of doing something fun? Do you know where you are going Aunt Carol? Are we lost? I'm thirsty, can I have a drink?"

Carol would like to throw him in the ocean.

But she doesn't, because he's Josh and Josh is just different....from other kids.

Brad is different too, but an entertaining different. Brad is fun to have around. He can be self-sufficient or loving or quiet or loud. He can make you feel important when he looks at you or when he sits next to you and says, "It's Aunt Carol day! Let's celebrate together. You can take us to a movie of my choice."

Brad likes Brad.

Josh...Josh doesn't like his brother. Josh doesn't like himself.

Josh is actual parenting, something Carol has managed to stay the hell away from all her life. Josh reminds Carol why she has a dog named Scooter and not a child.

Josh barely talks when his father is around. But Ed's not here. The result is the current torrent of words flooding at her.

Ed, silence. No Ed, no silence.

It's an easy equation to solve.

Things have changed since Sara's death. In Josh's opinion, it's somehow his dad's fault that his mother is dead, although Josh hasn't bothered to explain to anyone why or how so. He just dumped the entire unfortunate accident in Ed's lap and walked away.

Brad tells his father all the time that he loves him. Throws hugs on Ed like confetti.

Carol knows that Josh is biding his time until he can openly tell his father to go to hell. He manages to do it silently with his attitude everyday.

"This is hopeless. I think we're lost. I hate walking in this sand. Can we go on the sidewalk? Why isn't Dad meeting this lady? Why do we have to hang out with his stupid friend?"

"Uh huh," Carol says. She stopped listening seven questions ago.

From the midst of Josh's non-stop chatter, Carol hears, "Hotdogs."

She turns around to see a lagging Brad pointing. Carol follows the direction of his finger and spies a beat up red and white-stripped awning billowing in the ocean breeze.

"Stripes and hotdogs." Brad smiles at her.

Their goal in sight, Brad jogs on ahead of Carol and Josh.

"Come on Aunt Carol," he shouts into the wind. "You're buying."

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Ryan stays behind Sandy all the way up to the main house.

He likes being behind Sandy. He likes it when Sandy leads. He's more comfortable with Sandy than any grown man he has ever been around, including his own father.

His dad could be an ok guy sometimes. That is before policemen showed up and arranged new living accommodations.

Ryan can remember being on his dad's shoulders, or digging through his pockets for quarters or begging to get gum and candy at the convenience store where his father always bought his morning coffee. He's sure Seth believes that the Atwood house was a revolving door of one Jerry Springer moment to another. But it wasn't. There were quiet times. Lots of them. Just not too many at night.

A few years ago Ryan and Trey sat on the hood of Arturo's newest old car and tried to remember a single good memory of their father that included being home at night.

"You're lucky Ryan," Trey had said, "You don't remember most of it."

And he was right. Most of the bad memories were flashes, still frame photos rather than video camera. Hiding, hands over ears, keeping your head down because something about raging parents being observed by crying kids evidently throws gas on the fire rather than putting it out.

There was hitting and getting hit sucks. But hiding and waiting and listening are worse.

It's something Seth will never understand, so Ryan doesn't even bother to try to explain it to him. How could Seth possibly understand, with a father like Sandy?

To his credit, Seth does know a thing or two about being forced to exist in an environment where people are making your life miserable. Just 'cause Seth paid his dues at school doesn't mean he can't relate.

Ryan, lost deep in thought, almost runs into Sandy's back when the older man stops to open the patio door.

"Are you ok Ryan?" Sandy asks.

And for the first time in a long time Ryan says yes and believes that he might actually mean it. He wonders if Sandy will ever truly comprehend how grateful he is to him for today in the pool house, for that afternoon months ago, for everything.

When they get in the kitchen, Sandy shakes his head and reaches for the side of Ryan's face, comments that the bruise on his eye is getting worse.

"You're going to embellish the whole running into the elbow thing, right?" He asks Ryan.

"Maybe the ball hit you. Kirsten's going to have a cow when she sees that eye."

Ryan stares at him.

"Well, of course, I'm not saying you should lie, just maybe make it sound like team bonding or real guy stuff."

Sandy swings his arm in front of himself. "Manly stuff."

"Uh huh," Ryan tries to suppress a laugh. He's never seen a man look more ridiculous than Sandy did just now.

"Manly stuff?" Ryan confirms, both eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Sandy sighs, "I know, the manly isn't going to cut it. Just," he rethinks his position, "just maybe don't mention the other bruise."

Ryan nods. A lie of omission is much preferable to the manly stuff defense.

"Ok, so, here's the deal," Sandy says pointing to the kitchen counter.

"I have placed two piles on the counter."

Ryan sees a couple of twenties and a folded sheet of paper sitting in one area of the counter. A little further down sits a frozen steak.

Ryan leans over the steak and pokes it. Yep, frozen. He looks back at Sandy.

"You see Ryan, I'm not sure if anyone has ever alluded this to you before but your strong suit, my friend, is not verbal communication."

Ryan continues to look at Sandy with an occasional peek at the steak. He's not sure why, but the steak is making him uncomfortable.

"And it's extremely important to Kirsten and I that we help you through this situation with Ed Carden."

Ryan scoots away from the frozen meat.

"But you make it hard Ryan because you aren't exactly forthcoming in the information or feeling department."

Ryan decides he must be channeling Seth and his damn curiosity. What the fuck does any of this have to do with the freaking frozen steak?

"That puts Kirsten and I in a difficult position. You see Ryan, Kirsten and I have grown up with Seth. Seth was verbalizing his displeasure with things by the age of two. We are used to being spoon fed important and unimportant personal information."

"Uh huh." Ryan's tries to follow along.

"So here's the deal. We're done asking you what you want. You don't like to be asked and we don't really enjoy the entire process either so, tell you what. We got two piles here Ryan. You need to pick one. First pile is cab fare and the name of the beach where Kirsten is spending the day getting to know Ed Carden's kids. He's not there. He agreed to let you have the opportunity to hang out with the boys without him around. So, if you want to go check that out, take the cab fare and Kirsten will bring you home."

Ryan stares at the money.

Sandy directs his attention to the steak.

"And I am grilling steak for lunch out on the barbeque. So if you want to stay here, go slap this baby on the grill and if you're lucky I'll make some of my world famous potato salad. There's no right or wrong answer. And no one is going to second-guess you, whatever choice you make. Don't make it harder than it needs to be. Just do what you want. You have a right to do that Ryan. Whatever you decide, you have Kirsten's and my support. Unconditional."

Ryan looks back and forth between the two piles.

His foster father slaps him on the back.

"I'll be outside. If Seth needs something, I have the monitor. Take your time. Do what you want to do Ryan, because ultimately, that's all that Kirsten and I want you to do."

Sandy grabs a beer, goes outside.

Ryan sits at the breakfast bar, stares at the two piles, looks outside.

Sandy is sitting on the side of the pool, just hanging out in the sun, sipping his beer, feet submerged in the water, the ever-present monitor next to him.

Ryan returns his attention to the steak/money quandary.

Thinks about it some more.

Makes up his mind.

Reaches for the counter.

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To be continued...............


	17. Best of Intentions Chapter Sixteen

**Disclaimer:** The OC, is not owned, by me. All the mistakes? Yep, those are mine.

**Author's Note: **Ahhhh, why did this update take me so long? I don't have a single valid excuse. I have reasons. But they are all so boring and mundane.

Actually, it's quite a lot of pressure trying to follow up a cliffhanger that uses frozen meat as a means of plot development. I mean, where do you go from there? Hell, do you even deserve to go anywhere after that? Probably not.

A best beta....ever award to The **crashcmb**. I didn't even stop the car when I threw this chapter at her.

Concerning the recent reviews, what can I say that I haven't already said? Thank you. You guys crack me up. I have the best reading audience in the whole wide world. The world I tell ya. Funny stuff folks. And hey **walter**, if you're still reading, that's enough feedback for me.

So, which side of the fence are you on? Steak or money?

Let's see if you guessed right.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Sixteen

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From out of nowhere, there he is.

Shaggy blond hair, standing on tippie toes to read the menu that is hanging up behind the man at the hot dog stand's beaten up wooden counter.

What are the chances, Kirsten wonders, that this little boy would have this hairstyle?

His father is in the military.

Don't military people make their kids get crew cuts?

The older boy's hair is shorter.

It figures the Carden child that most resembles Ryan is the one with the hair in his eyes.

Fate is having a field day with all of them this weekend.

Brad spots Kirsten and cocks his head to the side.

"Hi," she smiles.

He recognizes her. Kirsten can tell by the way he straightens his head again, as if a great mystery has been solved.

"Oh hey," he gives a small wave. "My Aunt Carol is just over there."

He points and Kirsten sees Carol Carden walking with the older boy.

"Do you want something to eat?" Kirsten asks Brad. "My husband says the hot dogs here are the best in California."

"Um," Brad swivels around, reestablishes a visual of his aunt, "I think I should wait for my aunt." Kirsten nods, steps back. She's a stranger, she can read his discomfort.

"But uh, thank you." Brad offers.

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Sandy comes inside from the pool.

He doesn't have to look at the counter to know Ryan's answer.

There's still only one steak slowly grilling on the barbeque.

Making potato salad for just one person is no fun, so Sandy reaches for some potato chips.

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Kirsten and Carol help the boys transport their lunches from the hot dog stand onto the beach.

Carol notices that Josh has shut down again. He thinks that Kirsten Cohen is his dad's friend so he must be deeming Mrs. Cohen unworthy of his time and attention.

The two women settle the boys several feet away, allowing both of the groups privacy from each other.

Kirsten and Carol sit in an awkward silence for a minute before Kirsten asks, "What do you do for a living Carol? You mentioned having business in California?"

Carol smiles, "I don't have a conventional job. Actually, the hours are great. I'm a commissioned artist for office buildings. Basically I submit plans, everything from murals to small frames, outline the theme I'm thinking of and then I negotiate until my proposals are accepted or denied."

She pauses a second to laugh, "I don't come cheap but it takes me forever to finish up a project. In the end I make a decent living, and the flexibility my job provides has been a godsend," Carol falters slightly, "since Sara's death. Since I've had to help Ed with the boys."

Kirsten nods reflexively, an automatic reaction when discomfort over subject matter robs you of your ability to react in any other way.

"Do you have any questions, about her, about Sara?" Carol asks, leans in a bit towards Kirsten. "I don't mind answering any."

Kirsten clears her throat, purses her lips, and throws a cautious glance in the direction of the Carden children.

"I'm sorry," Carol quickly apologizes, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just want us to be honest with each other. I'm trying too hard. I tend to do that. Sorry."

Kirsten takes in Carol's admission, then says, "Sandy told me that Ed's wife died recently, in a car accident?" Kirsten's voice is low; she continues to maintain eye contact with the region the Carden boys are in.

Carol recognizes Kirsten's uncertainty with the boys close proximity, she lowers her own voice, answers Kirsten, "Yes, six months ago. But it's starting to feel longer. I'll always love Sara, but her death feels permanent now. For better or worse I think Ed's finally decided to move on, finally decided that she's really not coming home."

Kirsten observes Brad stand up and throw hot dog remains at a group of stalking seagulls. He chases off after one of them. The older boy lies down on his towel, rolls over to his side, watches his brother's actions but makes no attempt to join him.

"How are the boys handling it?" she asks Carol, immediately regretting the question. Jesus, like it's any of her business.

But Carol Carden seems unfazed. She gets right to answering Kirsten's loaded inquiry. "Oh, you know. Kids are kids. They still put themselves first. Brad has just sort of accepted it, gotten on with his life. He plays soccer, baseball, basketball, skateboards. Keeps busy. But little things tell me he's still mourning. He told me a few days ago that he wants to take Sara's picture out of his room. That he feels like she's staring at him. He hasn't slept with the light off since her death. He slips and calls me Mom sometimes then clams up afterwards. But generally, I think he's doing pretty well, all things considered. He's still Brad. He's still the same little boy he was the day Sara died."

Carol stops talking, reaches for her bottle of Diet Coke that Kirsten was nice enough to supply. She takes a slow sip, wondering just how much information about Josh Ed would be comfortable revealing.

Kirsten sits patiently, taking in the busy activity of the beach.

"Josh is...having a harder time," Carol says softly.

"I'm sorry," Kirsten answers. "No child should have to go through the death of a parent."

Carol stares at the boys.

Kirsten digs into her floppy bag.

"I brought a few pictures of Ryan," Kirsten smiles. "I wish I could have brought more but he doesn't really enjoy having his picture taken."

Carol thanks her, looks at the first picture that is handed to her.

"That's Sandy," Kirsten points at her husband's image in the photo. "And this," Kirsten digs through the small stack, "is my son Seth. He and Ryan were escorts at a debutant ball. I love this picture of the two of them."

It's Carol's turn to simply nod, uncertain of how to react, uncertain of how to convey to Kirsten Cohen how grateful she is that Kirsten appears to be an unbelievably classy person. That Kirsten skipped over Josh's issues, brought these pictures, returned a phone call, showed up at all.

Carol takes the picture into her hands. Really gets a chance to see Ryan, now that she knows who he is, the center of it all, the reason her brother is currently acting like a stranger.

In the picture Ryan is smiling, a small smile, but it's there. The Cohen boy has a huge grin on his face, obviously used to having his picture taken, comfortable with the camera. But Ryan's smile seems more genuine; he's actually looking at the camera, as if trying to decide how to commit to it. He's a handsome kid. Carol looks at Brad, running like a maniac towards the waves, throwing his hands up in the air, hollering to God knows who.

She'll never see Ryan do that. Ed will never see Ryan do that. And her brother's desperateness suddenly takes on a bitter reality.

"Do you want to see another one?" Kirsten asks quietly, offering a third picture.

"Can we talk about Ryan?" Carol inquires. "Are you comfortable, talking about him?"

Kirsten fiddles with the pictures. "Ryan's sixteen, he's very private. I'm not really at liberty to discuss his personal life. It wouldn't be right."

Carol nods. "Is he happy?" She turns to face Kirsten. Goddamn pictures and Brad smiling and running after seagulls and Ed's earlier outburst of frustration have her emotions on PMS code level red. She hopes Kirsten doesn't notice that she's about to burst into unintentional tears.

"Can you just tell me, after everything that he has been through, Russell in jail, Dawn abandoning him, now that he's with you and your family, is he happy?"

Kirsten smiles, "He's a teenager. Do they do happy?"

Carol laughs and her shoulders slump forward. She puts her head on the palm of her hand, shakes her head back and forth, and allows a few tears that have been huddling in the corner of eyes to slip out.

She feels Kirsten's hand on her shoulder.

"I think he's happy living with us," she assures Carol. "Or at the very least content. Every new day that goes by, he's a little more settled."

Carol nods, "That's good news."

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Sitting in the cab, Ryan wonders why the hell he is doing what he is doing.

He'd like to blame it all on a desire to please Kirsten, but it's not true.

He is sorta' curious about these kids and he can tell that the Cohens want him to be curious. And everything's ok now. It's ok to be a little curious. 'Cause Kirsten told him that this isn't about where he's going to live or who's responsible for him.

Sandy wants him. Seth needs him. Kirsten has accepted him.

He just has to stay calm now. Stop worrying about the little things, like the fact that Kirsten took forever to call him when Seth went into the hospital on Thursday, or that she didn't even think about taking him with her in the first place. That she left him standing alone on the driveway, and then didn't call. Didn't remember to call.

Or Sandy waiting to tell him about....the guy. Sandy told him why he waited. It makes sense. It's done. He needs to stop thinking about it.

Ryan looks outside the window. He hates that his brain never shuts off, never leaves him alone, never stops watching or analyzing.

Or doubting.

Quiet.

Everyone is always saying he's so quiet. They aren't inside his brain. His brain is never quiet.

But everything's ok. This new guy means nothing. This new guy isn't going to change anything.

In and out.

That's all he has to do.

See those kids, say hey, and leave.

That's not hard. That's damn easy.

It's an even simpler plan than Sandy's restraining order.

Ryan feels the cab slow and come to a stop. He gets out, hands the driver two twenties and waves off the change. He and Sandy once took a cab home from one of Kirsten's charity events and Ryan learned the art of tipping Newport style. Or at the very least Sandy Cohen style.

He surveys the beach and boardwalk. It's not hard to find the hot dog stand. With its red and white stripes, it looks like a flat, rectangular candy cane, or rather an old, beat-up candy cane.

Kirsten's note said to look for them somewhere near the awning. Ryan's just amazed that his foster mother is willing to expose herself to sand and dried seaweed.

He walks past the hot dog stand and his stomach rumbles. Maybe he should have eaten that damn steak before he left the house.

Seth would have been smart enough to do that.

Ryan spots Kirsten and the lady from last night sitting halfway down the beach, a safe distance from any impending tides.

The kids are on their beach towels, a little distance away.

He takes a deep breath and tells himself that this is no big deal. All he has to do is show up. Maybe eat a hot dog, maybe listen a little. Let Kirsten feel like she has helped him with...these kids. Then he and Kirsten can go home, things can get back to normal and these people will go back to wherever the hell they came from.

Home.

Ryan realizes he just thought of The Cohens' as his home, not The Cohens' home.

Realizes he meant it.

After this, he and Kirsten can go back home together.

Maybe Sandy will make them steak for dinner.

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Seth wakes up and wonders what crawled into his mouth and died. He can barely pry his tongue off the roof of his mouth.

Yuck, disgusting and double yuck.

Alpha yuck.

Drink, he must secure a drink of epic proportions.

He attempts to stand up and is delighted to find that he can.

"Ok," he says out loud, brushes a shaky hand through his out of control mop. "Alright." He nods with confidence.

"Captain," Seth informs his oldest and dearest friend, "Spread the word, Seth Cohen is back in the game."

He holds onto the wall as he takes one wobbly step at a time down the stairs.

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Sandy stands in the kitchen clutching the monitor. Sure, it's easy to make fun of Kirsten and her ridiculous over-protectiveness...when she's here doing the parenting. But now that Seth is awake and evidently moving on his own, it's taking all of Sandy's self-control not to run into Seth's room and stifle the kid.

He moves towards the stairs and cringes as he listens to Seth's slow descent. A few groans here, a few moans there, one slow step at a time. But when he hears Seth's triumphant, "Yes!" as he reaches the end of the staircase, Sandy smiles to himself and sneaks back into the kitchen. He rushes and sits down at the breakfast bar, tries to look nonchalant.

"Oh, hey, are you awake?" Sandy fakes ignorance as Seth comes into the kitchen.

God, look at his pitiful son. Seth is a jumbled mess. Gray wool socks, flannel pajama pants, some t-shirt with words that Sandy no longer bothers to read, his bathrobe open and hanging loosely off one shoulder, hair flying in all directions, cheeks red, eyes half open and glassy. Walking like an old man.

Hell, after Thursday? Seth's never looked better.

Sandy jumps up, pulls out a chair. "Look at you, traversing the house unassisted."

"Ah yes", Seth eases himself into the chair. "I'm sure you are bursting with pride."

He puts his elbow on the counter, holds up his head with his hand, and rubs at his temple.

"Headache?" Sandy asks. Seth bobs his head in confirmation.

Sandy retrieves two Tylenols, gives them to Seth along with a bottle of water. "You're doing a hell of a job of hanging in there, son. The Cohen men are a resilient bunch."

He places a hand on Seth's forehead. Thank god, no real fever. Maybe a little warm. Sandy makes a mental note to grab the thermometer and make a proper check. Seth's voice is still beyond scratchy. He still sounds miserable.

Seth pops the pills into his mouth, washes them down with a gulp and a wince. He looks around the kitchen.

"Where is everybody?"

It's quiet. Seth expected everyone to rush out and greet him with pats on the back. Instead, all he gets is his dad's lame attempts at condolences and two Tylenols.

"Well," Sandy starts, "Ryan went to soccer practice and then he and your mom went out."

Seth takes another gulp of water, grimaces as it goes down his still sore throat.

"Where?"

"Um," Sandy hesitates. "To the beach."

Seth puts the bottle down. Raises his eyebrows and stares at Sandy.

"Mom went to the beach?"

Sandy nods.

"With Ryan?"

Sandy starts to say something but stops, shakes his head yes.

Seth sits up a little straighter, says disbelievingly, "Mom and Ryan ...went to the beach...together?"

"Yes."

"Ok," Seth twirls his finger, "See, there's so much wrong about that, that I'm not even sure where to begin asking questions."

"Seth."

"Yes, Ryan and the beach, maybe...if Marissa was there. Or me, but it couldn't be me, because I'm here. The Kirsten and the beach? Uh, no. Never. But Mom and Ryan going to the beach together? That's just...not...right."

"Seth."

"What, I'm away like two days and what have you people been up to? Anarchy, disarray. Ryan had a new dad, Mom's going to the beach, Ryan's going to the beach, without me, with Mom and you're..."

Seth eyes his father up and down.

"Well I don't know what you've been doing. I don't care, as long as it doesn't involve me and a bathtub."

"Seth," Sandy says his name a little louder.

His son stops talking and looks at him.

Waits.

"Your mom thought it might be a good idea if Ryan had a little time alone with Ed Carden's sons. So she and Ed Carden's sister are at the beach with the boys and Ryan went to meet them. They should be home in a few hours."

Seth takes a sip of water. "Ryan went to see those kids?" He asks, skeptically.

"Yes."

"Because Mom made him?"

"No," Sandy shakes his head. "We gave him a choice. Ryan chose to go."

"Yeah," Seth scoffs. "'Cause it's just so easy for Ryan to argue with you guys. I mean it's not like he ever just does something because you and Mom want him to."

"What does that mean?" Sandy asks indignantly.

"Nothing," Seth mumbles.

"Seth, your mother and I gave Ryan a choice. Seriously, this is what he wanted."

"Uh huh." Seth fidgets with his bottle of water.

"Seth?" Sandy probes, intrigued to find out what is on his son's mind.

"I thought you were going to take out a restraining order and now you guys are making Ryan go see these kids? I don't understand. And last night, Ryan was not sounding too interested in anything about this guy and his kids and now he's at the beach with them? Did you guys even ask Ryan what he wanted?"

Sandy sighs and reminds himself that Seth has been exiled to his bed or a hospital room for the majority of this weekend's proceedings. Obviously Ryan told him about the restraining order but Seth's been pretty much in the dark concerning Ed Carden and the entire emotional fall out.

"Seth, your mother and I spent a lot of time this morning talking to Ryan and trying to find out how he feels. We aren't going to force him to do anything."

"You should have woken me up." Seth mumbles, his voice agitated. "You should have woken me up this morning. What was Ryan supposed to say, alone, with you two on his back?"

"Seth!" Sandy tries to defend himself, "What is wrong with you?" As soon as the question is out of his mouth, Sandy wishes he could take it back. What is wrong with him? He's been hospitalized, still sick as hell, Ryan's going through all kinds of crap that Seth can't help him with. His son is clearly frustrated and feeling out of the loop. Sandy takes a deep breath and lowers his voice.

"Seth, your mother and I are working hard to make sure that Ryan has a say in all of this. Why don't you wait to make up your mind until Ryan comes home and you can talk with him? Ok? Are you hungry son? You should eat something."

Seth looks out the sliding glass door, doesn't answer for a few minutes.

"I can't eat any soup," he says sullenly.

"Ok," Sandy nods. "Fair enough. Listen, when I was in college a friend of mine broke his jaw and had it wired shut for four weeks. Couldn't eat anything unless it was pureed. We were twenty. We got creative."

Sandy reaches into a cabinet and pulls out the blender, grins at his son.

"Name it," he challenges Seth.

Seth pushes the bottle of water out of his way.

"Cocoa Puffs?" he asks hopefully.

Sandy reaches into the fridge for the milk.

"That...is not a problem."

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Kirsten chats a bit to Carol about her job. Carol informs Kirsten that she has heard of The Newport Group. They have an excellent reputation. The two women sit in intermittent silence, observing the boys enjoying the beach.

Well, Kirsten notes, the younger one is enjoying the beach. The older one is reading a book, hasn't moved from his towel.

Kirsten senses someone standing close to her and shades her eyes as she looks up.

Ryan.

He's here.

She smiles.

Sees the black eye.

Stops smiling.

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Carol becomes aware of Ryan's presence as well, fumbles to stand up. When the magazine she had been thumbing through falls on the sand, Ryan reaches down and picks it up.

He hands it back to her, spies out from underneath his bangs, and says awkwardly, "Here you go."

"Thank you," Carol effuses, tells herself to calm down, don't overwhelm him. Go very, very slowly.

"Ryan!" Kirsten practically shouts his name, "What happened to your eye?"

Carol studies the teenager, watches his body language. He brushes his fingers through his hair. "Um, nothing, just soccer practice. I already showed it to Sandy. He knows."

He's lying, Carol immediately concludes, glances to see Kirsten's reaction.

Kirsten reaches up and turns Ryan's head to examine the eye more closely.

"Does it hurt? Did you guys put ice on it?"

Ryan shakes his head no, shrugs.

Kirsten sighs.

"Come sit down Ryan. Carol and I were just talking about how good I am at my job."

Carol laughs slightly at Kirsten's attempts to ease her foster son into the uncomfortable situation. She watches as the teenager looks around, unsure of what to do.

Kirsten pats the sand beside her and Ryan settles down next to her, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Ryan, this is Carol Carden, Ed's sister. I know you met her last night but..."

"Hi," Carol sits back down, waves at Ryan. "I wouldn't exactly call last night the best introduction in the world."

Ryan doesn't respond, glances around. Seems to spot the boys and concentrates on them.

Carol wants to pursue the whole black eye thing but Kirsten Cohen has dropped it and Carol isn't quite in the best position to point out that she thinks Ryan is lying.

Do the Cohens always just take his word about things? Do they just accept what he tells them? He's sixteen. Carol remembers herself at sixteen. Yikes. But she bites her tongue, remembers her place. Slow and steady.

"Did you bring a swimming suit Ryan?" Kirsten asks. Carol sees her point at Ryan's boots. "I'm not sure that you want to get those wet."

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Oops, Ryan thinks.

Swimming suit. Oh yeah. Forgot about that. Forgot about a towel too.

"There's a shop a few stores down from the hot dog place." Kirsten tells him. "Why don't you go see if they have something in your size. Did you have lunch yet Ryan? We already grabbed something to eat."

She digs into her bag and gets out some money.

He wishes she would hand him money in private. Every time the Cohens give him money, it takes everything he has to accept it. It's bad enough in front of Seth. In front of strangers, it's beyond degrading.

Ryan watches as the younger of the two kids comes racing up with a handful of shells. He spots Ryan and drops them on the ground.

"Oh hey, cool. Are you hanging out with us? I can't remember. Do you surf?"

"No," Ryan shakes his head and thinks, 'Here we go again. It's Question Boy.'

"Ryan," Kirsten pops into the conversation. "Why don't you take Brad with you? Maybe you two can find a store that sells skimboards. I should have brought Seth's."

"What's a skimboard?" Brad eagerly asks.

"Ryan will show you," Kirsten tells him, produces some more money from her beach bag.

Brad stares at Ryan, waiting for him to stand up.

'Just a hot dog', Ryan laments to himself. 'I'm only supposed to be eating a hot dog. In and out. Kirsten is always ruining the damn plan.'

But he gets up and brushes the sand off his pants.

Thank God Seth isn't here to witness this humiliation, Kirsten throwing money at him and forcing him to baby-sit.

Well, maybe it would be better if Seth were here. Seth understands the finer details of humiliation, seems to have a way of coming out on top of it.

Carol hands Ryan a wad of bills as well. "I've got the skimboard covered," she assures Kirsten. "I'm sure Brad and Josh will get years of use out of it." She pauses and Ryan gets a sneaking suspicion that she's looking straight at his black eye. "He doesn't have to take Brad with him. Really, it's ok. I'm sure Ryan will pick out something that's fine."

"I wanna' go, let's go," Brad skips up ahead. Not really skipping, more like jumps and walks at the same time. Like a small, nervous dog greeting new visitors.

Ryan ambles after Brad, suddenly understanding a little better why Trey was perpetually pissed off at always having to cart him around when they were younger.

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Seth manages to finish most of his breakfast.

_Mental note to self, pureed foods do not get enough credit in mainstream America._

His dad has been roving around the house, keeping himself busy.

With his headache receding to acceptable levels, Seth stands up and mosies into the living room.

He's bored. He's sick. Someone must pay the price.

Ryan is the preferred distraction of choice, but he's not around.

Seth surveys the room. Sitting down on the couch probably isn't a bad idea. On his way over to it, he sees the phone. Ryan's not around physically, but that doesn't mean he can't be a source of amusement.

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Josh has gotten good, since his mom's death, at listening and watching but not being noticed. It's amazing how much information adults will give up when they think that kids aren't paying attention.

Something's up with his dad and that lady and that kid that just showed up.

That kid that Aunt Carol let walk away with Brad.

That's stupid. Why did Aunt Carol let Brad go with that kid? Brad wanders away. This kid doesn't know that. Brad will see something he likes and walk away and that stupid kid from last night won't have a clue until Brad is lost. And this beach is huge.

Josh watches TV. He knows that people are always looking for kids to snatch.

He gets up, looks over at his aunt. She and that lady are talking. Aunt Carol doesn't even see him. Whatever. He's almost eleven. He doesn't need a babysitter.

He runs a little bit. It's much harder running on the sand than the grass. But soon he sees Brad and that kid at that hot dog place. The big kid is buying a hot dog and Josh groans with injustice as he sees Brad pick out a huge ice cream bar.

Brad gets everything he wants.

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"Do you um, want anything?" Ryan asks the little boy standing next to him.

"Can I have some ice cream?"

Ryan shrugs. What the hell? He motions to the man taking their order and Brad rattles off the name of some ice cream thing.

Ryan puts mustard on his hot dog and the two of them start down the boardwalk, in search of a store that sells either swim trunks or skimmers.

"How old are you?" Brad asks through bites of ice cream.

"Sixteen."

"You look older. You look like my neighbor who's like twenty-five or something."

Ryan shrugs.

"How'd you get a black eye? That looks totally cool."

Ryan swallows. "Soccer practice."

"Wow," Brad says, impressed. "I play soccer and I've never gotten a black eye. You must be on a totally tough team. Our coaches blow the whistle every time some momma's boy falls down on the ground. Most of the guys I play with are wimps."

Ryan's not sure what to say so he goes with his favorite option, nothing. He takes a huge bite of hot dog.

"Your mom's nice." Brad offers. "She got my Aunt Carol to cough up money for something."

Ryan stops chewing. Should he correct the kid? Why not? Could things get any more uncomfortable than strolling along the boardwalk with some strange kid who, incidentally, is most likely your biological brother?

"Kirsten's not my mom. I'm just living with her and her family."

Brad stops walking. "You don't have a mom?" He looks up at Ryan, his head slanted to one side. "I don't have a mom either."

'Shit' thinks Ryan. Bad subject. Shouldn't have bothered to say anything.

"I still have a mom. She just has to...work a lot... so I stay with the Cohens."

"Where's your dad?" Brad asks. "Why don't you live with him?"

Ryan takes a deep breath. At least the mom issue appears to be temporarily forgotten. Not that the dad issue is fucking anything he wants to deal with either. Not at all. But there's something about this kid. His questions aren't guarded like most people's are once they hear where he's living. In fact this kid doesn't seem fazed in the slightest bit by the fact that he's not living with his own family.

"My dad's in jail. He did something stupid."

"Did he murder someone?" Brad continues to eat the ice cream as if there is absolutely nothing unusual about the conversation.

"No," Ryan laughs in spite of himself. This kid is definitely not Newport material. "He tried to rob a store."

"Oh," Brad shakes his head up and down. "That is pretty stupid."

The ice cream bar is melting down the side of Brad's hand. Ryan passes him a napkin.

This kid's not so bad after all.

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Carol tells Kirsten that she rents a small house near Ed and the kids. She helps out all the time, is trying to help her brother start over.

"It's a slippery slope though," Carol says wistfully. "I think I should start pulling away. All three of them are becoming too dependent on me, Josh especially. I think if he had his way, I'd move in with them. But I'm not Sara's replacement and I don't want to be. I know he knows that but, I'm convenient and safe and I'm not...Ed." Carol shifts sand through her fingers. "That little boy," she pauses, "is one very upset child."

Kirsten listens, remains quiet. She's reminded of Ryan and his own set of issues.

Carol drops the sand in her hand and abruptly stands up.

"Do you see Josh?" She questions Kirsten. "I don't see Josh anywhere. Do you see him?"

Kirsten recognizes panic in Carol's voice. This woman may not want to be a surrogate parent, but she's become one all the same. That's a mother's panic.

"I'm sure he's at the water," Kirsten says, trying to keep her own voice calm. She looks around, doesn't see Josh.

"I don't see him." Carol rushes, "He wouldn't go into the water without telling me. He knows the rules. Josh always follows my rules."

She starts walking towards where the boys have been camped out, calling Josh's name. Kirsten sits frozen for a minute and then jumps up, joins Carol.

"Oh God," Carol says quickly, "Something's wrong, Josh isn't like this. He doesn't just leave without telling me."

"It's ok," Kirsten tries to assure her. "I'm sure he's not far away. We'll find him."

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The shop that Kirsten suggested doesn't have anything in Ryan's size.

He takes Brad further down the boardwalk, the white and red striped hot dog stand now out of sight.

"You are so lucky to live in California," Brad excitedly chatters to Ryan. "I would kill to live here."

Ryan steers Brad to a garbage can, helps him peel the remains of melted cone and glued napkin off the boy's hands. How do kids get so sticky?

"Not everywhere in California is like here, as nice as the beach." Ryan tries to explain.. _Take, for example, the hellhole I'm from._

"Let's get a tattoo," Brad grins mischievously, pointing to a ramshackle tattoo parlor along the boardwalk. "Or, if you don't want one, we could just get me a tattoo."

"I don't think so." Ryan answers. But he smiles to himself. That would be kind of fun, to see everyone's reactions. That guy wouldn't want anything to do with him if he brought his kid home with a naked woman tattooed on his back.

"Hey," Brad pokes Ryan's bicep, points. "What are those things? They look like little surfboards."

Ryan follows Brad's finger to a small beachfront store beside the tattoo parlor. "Those are uh, the skimboards."

"Cool," Brad shakes his head up and down, pulls at Ryan's arm. "Let's go get one. You can always swim in jeans."

The two make their way to the store.

Ryan's cell phone goes off.

He looks around, tells Brad, "I'm gonna wait for you on the bench right outside the store ok? Find the one you want and come get me."

Brad is lost in a pile of skimmers. "Uh huh," he answers absently.

Ryan sits down on the bench, flips his phone open.

Given the number on the caller ID, he expects Sandy. When Seth's quiet, rough voice is the one that greets him, Ryan sits up, puts his finger in his ears, looks down on the ground and concentrates to make out what Seth is saying.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Abandoned." Seth croaks. "What the hell? You're at the beach with my mom? Has life without me become this desperate Ryan?"

Ryan grimaces, "Yes."

"Dad told me what's up. When are you coming home man?"

Ryan peeks inside the shop, sees the back of Brad's head.

"I'm not sure."

A woman with her own cell phone sits down next to Ryan and begins having a loud conversation. He gets up, does one more check on Brad and walks to the other side of the store. He leans against the adjoining wall.

Seth says something but Ryan can't make it out. He turns his back to the store, crouches down, and tries to block out the noise around him. Seth repeats his thoughts.

"Are you ok, with what's happening? Did Mom and Dad put you up to this? Dude, you do not have to do anything you don't want to do. You are allowed to tell the parental units no."

"It's cool Seth. I'm fine. I'm hanging out with the little one. He wants me to get him a tattoo."

"Oh you should so do that!" Seth sounds more excited at the thought of a tattoo than Brad did. "That would be so worth anything. Shit, you can blame it on how confused and emotionally distraught you are."

God he misses Seth. And this Seth, minus the voice, sounds like Seth.

"I'm not getting him a tattoo Seth. What is wrong with you? I think he's eight years old."

"Oh come on," Seth chides, "Like all the eight-year-olds in Chino don't have tattoos."

"I'm hanging up now." Ryan threatens. "You're still too heavily medicated."

"I feel better." Seth offers.

"Good," Ryan answers, and he means it. It'll be a nice change of pace to go home and find Seth awake. Thank God Kirsten and Sandy will have someone else to talk to.

He tells Seth goodbye, hangs up and goes inside the store to find out which board Brad wants.

When he doesn't see the little boy near the skimboards, Ryan checks both sides of the store. But it's nothing more than a small hut really, and it's obvious at first glance that the kid isn't inside the store anymore.

'Oh shit', Ryan's brain screams. He looks around the boardwalk. It's full of people and dogs and little kids holding their parent's hands.

Holding their hands because that's how you fucking don't lose kids. You hold onto their fucking slimy little ice cream covered hands!

Shit.

Ryan goes back into the store, asks the clerk if he's seen Brad. The teenager behind the counter shakes his head no. He looks stoned.

Ryan centers himself in the middle of the boardwalk, looks back and forth.

Nothing.

Oh fuck.

He lost the kid.

This is way worse than a tattoo.

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To be continued........


	18. Best of Intentions Chapter Seventeen

**Disclaimer:** The OC called. It wants me to own it. But I had to put it on hold to post this chapter.

**Author's Note:** I know, I know, a week is too long. It absolutely is. I'm sorry. To make up for it I killed Ed this chapter. Just kiddin'. But I do want to apologize for the delayed update. It's not fair to you guys. I don't deserve a single one of you. (But please stay!)

**Crashcmb **gets a special, 'thanks for bugging me' nod. (Not to mention the whole beta thing.)

**Joey51** gets another shout-out this chapter. Her story **War** is all about Ryan's soccer team. You should go read it.

**Ben**...you keep making me spit out my diet 7UP. I love it.

Thanks for all the other kind words. I love reading the reviews. They help me keep going.

Thanks guys.

On with the show.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Seventeen

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_He got lost once, at a flea market in Fresno. It was a huge outdoor one. He was barely seven and the sale must have covered ninty acres, one huge tent after another. Well, it seemed that big. Trey told him to wait in a corner but something got his attention and he wandered away._

_All he can really remember is feeling alone and scared. _

_His brother found him later, weaving around cars in the parking lot, trying not to cry, searching for their vehicle._

_Trey smacked him on the head. _

_Hard. _

_Ryan remembers his ear stinging, throbbing, holding it, rubbing at it, trying to distract the pain._

_Trey said something like, "Shit, Ryan! You were supposed to wait for me. I've been looking for you forever. What the hell is wrong with you?"_

_The memory is blurry but Ryan can still recall crying after being hit because his ear stung and he was hungry and still scared and on top of everything else, Trey was so pissed at him that he was practically dragging him across the parking lot, back towards the white tents, all lined up like dominoes._

"_Ryan, stop crying," Trey yelled at him. "Stop it or you're going to get us both in trouble. Mom and Dad don't know I lost you."_

_Trey shoved a wad of napkins at him. Told him to wipe the snot off his nose, get over it, bought him a huge cherry ICEE, put it up to his ear until it stop hurting, mumbled an apology for the smack and held onto his hand the rest of the day._

Ryan stops his hurried walking, ceases looking frantically back and forth. Runs his fingers through his hair, swears softly, tries to slow his rapid breathing, and reaches for his phone. He's been scouring the boardwalk, searching for Brad for fifteen minutes, with no luck. All he can think about is that someone has snatched the kid, is forcing him into some nondescript van, is hurting him.

Or maybe the kid is just scared and crying and walking around wondering why Ryan can't find him.

This is all his fault.

He should have ignored his phone; he shouldn't have talked to Seth.

He shouldn't have left that little boy alone in the store.

Common sense tells Ryan to call Kirsten for help but his fingers automatically dial Sandy.

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Sandy cleans up the grill. Too much damn work for too little steak. He's not disappointed that Ryan picked the beach and those little boys. He's just surprised. That's something that his foster son can always be counted on, providing their lives with little, unexpected happenings. Ryan seems to attract unsolicited excitement.

Sandy's cell phone rings and he puts down the metal brush he's using on the grill to fumble with answering it.

Ryan's number is on the display.

"Hey kid, what's up?"

Oh joy, another surprise.

Sandy's mind tries to keep up with the rush of information that Ryan is throwing at him.

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Kirsten and Carol decide to split up. Kirsten goes back to the beach, reports Josh's disappearance to the lifeguard station, and waits to see if the boy will simply show up.

Carol races along the boardwalk, calling Josh's name, trying not to think about her earlier desire to throw Josh into the ocean.

God, what if he's out there, floating in the sea. Dead. Drowned while she was busy on the beach trying to be instant friends with Kirsten Cohen, too busy to be watching him.

When she sees Ryan, Carol is relieved. Another person to help with the hunt. She races up to the teenager.

"Ryan, thank God, I can't find Josh. Would you bring Brad back to Kirsten and help me look for him?"

The teenager stares at her, stunned, speechless.

Carol notices a phone at his ear.

"Um, I'll call you right back," she hears him say into the phone. The male voice on the other end is loud. Carol hears, "Ryan...." but the rest of the sentence is cut off when he closes the phone.

Something is missing. Something's not right. Carol glances around.

Where's Brad?

"Ryan? Where's Brad?"

He drops his head, lifts it back up, and stares her in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

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Sandy calls Kirsten.

"We've got a problem honey," he warns before she can even say hello.

"How did you find out?" She asks, mystified.

"Ryan called me."

"How did Ryan find out?" Kirsten's confusion grows.

"Well," Sandy simplifies his words, slows down, "I'm pretty sure that he was the first one who knew."

Kirsten starts over again.

"Sandy, what are you talking about?"

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"I can't believe this is happening," Carol snaps angrily at Ryan. "How could you be so irresponsible?" He hears a mumbled, "I knew I shouldn't have let him go with you."

She's so obviously distressed that Ryan passes on the impulsive desire to point out that she lost a kid too. He stands there, waiting for her to make a decision concerning their next step.

She seems to calm down a little, takes a few deep breaths.

"Don't you think it's strange that they are both missing?" She asks Ryan, her voice less antagonistic, more composed.

Ryan isn't sure what to say. How the hell should he know?

He should have picked the freakin' steak.

He's always fucking things up.

She gives up on waiting for him to answer her first question, tries a second one.

"Is there an arcade here?"

Ryan looks up and down the boardwalk. Shit, why didn't he think of that?

"Say something, is there an arcade or not?" Carol loses what's left of her patience, catches herself again, puts a hand on his arm, "Ryan, does this boardwalk have an arcade?"

"Yeah," he nods.

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Kirsten stands on the beach, listening to her husband, in complete disbelief.

Things have been going so well.

Now they've lost both kids.

You don't misplace children. They aren't car keys.

Ryan lost that little boy.

This is all her fault. She practically forced Brad on Ryan.

She hears familiar voices to her right.

"Sandy," Kirsten lowers her phone, puts her hand up to her eyes to shield them from the sun. "I think we're ok. Hang on a second."

Kirsten fast walks across the sand. Brad's Hawaiian shirt is unmistakable. She chants a silent 'thank you God.'

"I've got them." She informs Sandy. "Call Ryan, tell him that Brad's safe, here with me, on the beach."

The older boy, Josh, appears angry. He's stomping along, his hand clamped tightly around his younger brother's wrist. Kirsten approaches them and Josh spews out at her, "What do you want?"

Kirsten stalls, not expecting this much hostility from a child. The relief at finding him and his brother gives way to mild annoyance.

She holds out her phone. "You need to call your aunt. She's looking for you."

Brad swings his hand up and down, trying to dislodge it from Josh's. "Can you let go now?" He barks at his brother. "Geez."

Josh pushes Brad away, causing the smaller boy to land butt first on the sand. "You're such a brat," he reprimands his brother.

Kirsten helps Brad up, informs Josh, "I'll call Carol."

"Like I care what you do," Josh mutters as he plunks himself down on his beach towel.

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Having been told by two different sources that both boys are safe, Carol and Ryan walk in silence.

He's keeping a distance between himself and her, walking to her side, shuffling slightly behind.

Carol's already regretting her knee-jerk comments to Ryan. Hell of a way to win over a long lost nephew.

"I could use something to drink," she turns to him, tries to sound overly pleasant. "Would you like something to drink?"

He shakes his head no.

She can't read him. Can't tell if he's annoyed or mad or bored. It's probably a mixture of all three.

She says to hell with her constant diet and buys a Coke, takes a sip. It's ice cold, and helps to soothe her raw, shaky nerves.

Ryan is standing on the other side of the boardwalk, arms wrapped around his mid-section, waiting for her.

This is the second time she's met this young man. Has she ever seen him smile? He had a grin, in the picture Kirsten Cohen showed her. But in person, has she seen him smile?

He must be so uncomfortable right now, feeling guilty over Brad's short disappearance. Carol tips her cup at him.

"Are you sure you don't want something? God knows we both deserve a cold drink, chasing after those two damn kids."

She hopes her pitiful attempt at humor will relax him a bit but instead, he just answers her quietly, "No thank you."

"Accidents happen Ryan," Carol assures him. "I'm so sorry about what I said back there. I was upset. But that's no excuse; I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. And after Josh slipped under my radar, I was being a complete hypocrite."

At least he answers her this time with a reserved, "It's no big deal."

"Well I, for one, cannot wait to find out what cover story those two have cooked up," Carol softly jokes. "And I can tell you right now, they'll have one."

Ryan doesn't make an attempt to continue the strained conversation.

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"_Why did you leave me there?" he confronts a groggy Trey, "I had to fucking beg a ride home."_

_He's fourteen. It's summer. _

"_Shut the fuck up," Trey grumbles, squeezes a pillow over his head. "I'm fucking dying here Ryan. Turn off the damn light and leave me alone."_

_Ryan walks over to the bed, kicks the side of it._

"_You fucking left me there Trey. How the hell did you and Arturo think I was gonna get home?"_

"_We were so fucked up Ryan, we didn't exactly care. We told you before we went, every man for himself. Don't go anymore if you can't keep up. Why are you being such a fucking whiner? I'm sorry, okay? Get over it already."_

_Ryan flips the light off, leaves Trey and his hangover alone._

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_Seth says to him, "Are you coming man, you're coming, right?"_

_Seth always wants him around._

_Bugs him to finish his homework or blow off work. _

_Seth waits by the front door, holding it open for him._

"_You're coming with me, right Ryan?"_

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"_I'm sorry about the party," Trey says after finally emerging from his bedroom._ _"I was five kinds of fucked."_

_It's six at night. Ryan is making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner. His mom is staying late at work, something about overtime._

_Trey swipes him on the head playfully. _

_Ryan ignores him._

"_Christ Ryan, everything is so fucking dramatic with you. I said I'm sorry."_

_Trey points at the sandwich. "Put that shit away. Arturo and I will take you out before we hit Sammy's tonight."_

_Ryan glares at his older brother, takes a vengeful bite of his sandwich. Trey snatches it from Ryan's hand, throws it away._

"_Quit being such a fucking baby Ryan. You can hold the fucking keys tonight, okay?"_

_He pushes Ryan out the door._

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Ryan spots Brad and suddenly he's running.

Slowly at first, then full force, across the sand, his heavy boots impeding true progress.

By the time he reaches the younger boy, Ryan is panting.

He grabs Brad's arm, kneels down so he can see the kid at eye level.

"Are you ok?" He asks the bewildered boy.

"Yeah," Brad answers uncertainly, watching Ryan with suspicion. "I'm fine. What's wrong?"

Ryan catches his breath and realizes his grip is so tight that he might be hurting Brad. What is he doing? Running like some fucking freak. He barely knows this kid; he's going to frighten him. Jesus, he's just so relieved to see him here, on the beach, not dead in an alley, miles away. He pats at Brad, looking for any sign of an injury.

"Did anyone touch you? Give you anything? What happened? I told you to wait for me."

"Josh came and got me." Brad points in the direction of his older brother. "He told me to go with him."

Ryan looks away from Brad, sideways, just in time to see a small body hurling itself at him, knocking him into the hot sand.

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Kirsten watches with fascination as Ryan converses with Brad, holds his arm, questions the little boy with such genuine concern.

Ryan actually ran over to him.

She's never even seen Ryan walk fast, let alone run. He seems to only have two speeds, deliberately slow and a little less deliberately slow.

A smile creeps onto her face. Seeing the two of them together, so close, is amazing. The paternity test is a waste of time and money.

Kirsten's smile fades as she spots Josh making a beeline, in a dead run, for the kneeling Ryan.

She starts to call out a warning to her foster son, but it's too late.

Ryan's off-balance weight has already been knocked down by Josh's tackle.

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Ryan feels a body squirming on top of him.

Shit.

The beach is almost as dangerous as soccer practice.

"Get away from him!" Josh screams into Ryan's ear, slaps at his head and upper body.

Ryan, unsure of how to react, gently shoves the smaller boy off him.

He starts to get up but Josh is quicker, already back in his face. He kicks sand into Ryan's eyes.

"Get away from him!" Josh repeats. "Leave him alone!"

Ryan rubs at his eyes, already becoming sore at the introduction of millions of tiny granules of sand. The right one, already black, begins tearing up.

He hears voices around him, a soft hand on his back. Kirsten's voice, "Here Ryan, let me put a little water in your hands so you can wash out your eyes."

He lets her help him.

No real choice. He can't open his damn eyes without it stinging.

He blinks rapidly and feels a towel placed in his now wet hands. After a few seconds of dabbing, he gingerly opens his eyes.

That's better.

He can see without pain.

Kirsten is crouched next to him, looking concerned.

The Carol lady is holding Josh a few feet away, enclosed in a tight hug.

"Calm down," he can hear her instructing the boy. "Calm down right now Josh. You're in enough trouble already. Don't make it any worse."

"Why?" Josh demands. "Why am I in trouble? He left him alone!" Josh points accusingly at Ryan. "He left Brad all alone is some store, so he could talk on his stupid phone. Why am I in trouble?"

Josh's anger turns on his aunt. "You let him take Brad. We don't even know him and he almost lost my brother, so why am I in trouble? You should be in trouble. You and that stupid kid!"

He breaks free of Carol.

"Stay away from my brother!" He screams at Ryan before turning his back on all of them and storming off, kicking sand in every direction.

In the midst of the silence left in Josh's wake, Ryan feels a small arm on his bicep.

"Are you okay?" Brad asks.

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_Arturo stays relatively sober this time, drives home. Trey passes out in the back seat, a victim of his own excess._

"_I don't know how your crazy ass brother does it," Arturo shakes his head at Ryan. "That fool's gonna' kill himself. I don't even know what all the fuck he took tonight."_

_Between the two of them they get Trey into bed._

_Ryan walks Arturo to the door. "Thanks," he says, head down._

"_You better make sure he keeps breathing Ry," Arturo cautions. "Trey don't know when to stop."_

_He spends the rest of the night sitting with his back against the wall, watching Trey sleep._

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Brad sits next to him in the sand.

Quiet.

The two women are huddled on their towels, obviously having a strategy pow-wow.

"Go tell your brother thanks for having your back." Ryan pushes at Brad's leg.

"Why?" Brad cocks his head back. "He's acting like an idiot."

"No," Ryan shakes his head, "he had your back. You never take anyone's side against your own brother's. Never."

Brad stands up but doesn't move.

"Go," Ryan raises his voice.

Brad gives up, shrugs and walks over to Josh.

Ryan watches as Brad tries to get Josh's attention. The older boy ignores his little brother at first, turning his head in the other direction.

Brad dances a little dance around Josh. Ryan sees his lips move but can't hear what's being said. Brad stops bouncing around, leans over, sticks his head directly into Josh's face.

Ryan can make out a faint, "Thanks for having my back" before Brad's voice fades into the wind. He sees Josh nod, hold out his hand. Brad slaps it, resumes his frantic movements around his brother.

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"I'm calling Ed," Carol informs Kirsten. "I've never seen Josh this explosive. I'm afraid if I try and force him to go back to the hotel, he's going to take off on me. If you and Ryan want to leave, before Ed gets here, I'll understand."

"Let me go check with Ryan," Kirsten squeezes Carol's shoulder.

She walks over to her foster son, sits down next to him. He's watching the two brothers and barely acknowledges her presence.

"About now, if Seth was in your shoes, he would be explaining to me in minute detail how everything that has transpired in the last hour is completely and totally my fault," she says to him. "So, feel free, because I probably deserve it."

Ryan faces her, blinks in confusion.

"This was my idea Ryan, to have you meet the boys here. Sandy didn't like it but I thought I was doing the right thing. This entire mess is my fault. I'm sorry."

Ryan drops his head.

He's hit a wall.

Kirsten doesn't need Seth or her husband to interpret. She drops the blame game, recognizing that either Ryan silently agrees that it is indeed her fault or lacks the energy and motivation to talk about it.

She changes gears, less emotion, more direct action.

"Carol Carden is calling Ed. She wants him to come and pick up the boys. She's worried the older one is going to give her trouble. So, do you want to leave or stay with her until Ed Carden shows up?"

"We should stay," Ryan answers quietly, throws a quick glance at her, "make sure everything is okay."

The area around his eyes is red from irritation. He's sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, clothes covered in sand, still in his jeans and boots. God, what a series of nightmares this whole weekend has been.

Poor Ryan.

Brad comes running up.

"Did you tell him?" Kirsten hears Ryan ask.

"Yep," Brad nods. "He says he doesn't want to do anything. So I told him I was gonna' bug you to play and he says it's okay as long as we stay here so, will you, come and hang out?"

Ryan slips off his boots and socks.

"I'm just going to..." he motions towards Brad.

"That sounds good," Kirsten smiles at him.

She goes back to her towel. Carol is on the phone, gives Kirsten a small wave as she shuts the cell.

"Ed's on his way."

Kirsten watches as Brad strips off his shirt and dips his toes into the surf.

He runs back from the water, yelping about how cold the water is.

Ryan scoops him up, puts him into a fireman's carry. Wades into the water, jeans and all, with the little boy trapped and kicking over his shoulder.

He drops Brad into the ocean, waits for the kid to pop back up, falls into the water himself when Brad tries with all his might to push him over.

Kirsten wishes the day could have started and ended like this. This is all she wanted.

Her eyes wander over to Carol. She's watching Ryan and Brad as well.

Kirsten wonders if the woman is simply supervising the activities to make sure that Ryan isn't going to lose Brad again, or let the little boy drown out there.

She realizes she misjudged Carol motivations when Carol turns to her and says, "There, I think I saw Ryan smile."

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_He's nine and his father isn't coming home, hasn't been home for a while._

_He climbs into Trey's bed._

_Listens to his brother snore. _

_Closes his eyes and feels temporarily safe._

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"Ryan, watch me," Brad urges. He catches a wave, body surfs past Ryan, trudges through the water, returning to Ryan's side.

"Can you take me out deeper?" He requests. "I can't go out past my waist unless I'm with someone big."

Ryan's jeans feel like they weight a zillion pounds. His wifebeater is plastered to his chest.

Brad holds out his hand.

Ryan hesitates, then takes it.

They go out a little deeper.

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To be continued............................


	19. Best of Intentions Chapter Eighteen

**Author's note: **So, sorry to say, I think we may be on a one-week update schedule for now. There are several reasons, all of which are quite uninteresting. But I'm not going anywhere, so just have faith. Sorry 'bout slowing down on the updates but I won't go longer than a week.

I think our Review Of The Last Chapter Award needs to go to **storymom,** who has suggested that the entire Carden family be consumed by sharks. Huh. Wasn't thinking of taking the story in that direction, but, now that you mention it...

**Ben**...your continued compassion for Ed and his dead wife is an inspiration to us all. Are you considering pursuing counseling as a possible career? You clearly have a knack for wanting to help others with their problems. I suggest a ground level office though, best to stay away from balconies. (Bribed into academic submission by promises of OC DVD's huh? Well, I guess everyone has a price.)

Thank you everyone for your constant reviews. It's oh so nice to know that people are reading and enjoying this labor of love. I am shocked that so many of you even considered that I was going to drown sweet little Brad. People, people, what you must think of me!

Hi **crashcmb**. Hallo mein Freund, wie geht es Ihnen? Fräulein ya! Sie sind die Betabombe.

I tinkered after **crashcmb** beta'd. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. (I ain't two goods on the grammer and punchuation.)

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Eighteen

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Ed drives as fast as he can, considering he's not even sure where he's going.

What in the hell happened on that beach?

Carol rambled on about something concerning Josh taking off and 'stealing' Brad away from Ryan.

Josh lost his temper, attacked Ryan, and screamed at Carol.

Seven months ago his little boy was writing stories in spiral notebooks, bringing them to him and Sara to read. He went outside all the time, rode his bike, played soccer. Josh was quieter than Brad but still full of life, still capable of affection.

Now, all he does is read and avoid.

Josh has made avoidance into a full-time occupation.

Avoid schoolwork, avoid friends, avoid sports. Avoid his father and most days his family, what's left of his family.

Ed honestly thought that this trip to California would instantaneously bring back the old Josh. The joy of traveling on a plane, being in a new state, seeing exciting things. Help him remember how to be a kid.

But Josh evidently packed his demons along with his socks.

And as he drives, Ed realizes that the little boy he used to know may be on a permanent hiatus.

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Seth wakes up from his nap on the couch, checks his watch for the time.

He was only asleep for an hour and a half. Not bad. Headache, a little. Lead body, slightly. Throat...absolutely fucked.

He sits up and hears what he assumes is his Dad clomping around in the kitchen.

The phone rings. His Dad's less than enthusiastic, "Hello Cal," is a sure hint that Grandpa's checking in.

"He's sleeping right now," a pause followed by, "the doctor said that it's perfectly normal. I think we are capable of taking care of our own son."

Seth rolls his eyes and leans his head against the sofa. His Dad and Grandpa's fights used to be entertaining. Now they are just mundane.

More pausing, then, "I'll tell Kirsten that you called. Yes, yes. I understand. I'll let her know." A little longer pause and a final, "I have no idea when she'll be home. I don't control Kirsten, she's a grown woman."

Seth doesn't hear a formal goodbye, but his dad comes into the living room without a phone. Grandpa probably hung up on him.

"You're awake!"

Thank you Mr. Obvious.

"Can I get you something?"

Seth wonders if the hospital didn't install a microchip into everyone. All anyone ever says to him anymore is, "Can I get you something, do you need anything?"

Wait.

That's not so bad.

"Drink?" He pouts.

His Dad's right on it, naming off a dozen choices. Seth opts for an apple juice.

"When's Ryan coming home?" He asks when his father returns with the juice.

"Pretty soon I think," his Dad guesses. "He and your mother are having...an interesting time."

Seth raises his eyebrows above his glass. He finishes his sip, wishes his sore throat would take a vacation and asks, "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," his Dad shakes his head. "I'll let Ryan fill you in on the details."

"Great, that'll take up a whole five minutes," Seth predicts.

His Dad asks him how he's feeling, reaches out and puts a hand to his forehead. "You're hot again Seth."

Seth inwardly groans.

Whatever.

His parents need to go to Temperature Takers Anonymous.

His Dad scurries upstairs to retrieve the thermometer.

Seth sits on the sofa and considers his pitiful existence.

He's being ungrateful, he knows that. Some kids don't even have one parent that cares. He's lucky enough to have two.

But The Kirsten and The Sandy can sometimes border on psychotic parenting.

Life pre-Ryan, was...intense.

Life with Ryan is.... less intense and way more interesting.

Splitting the attention of the units in two different directions is so very much better.

Seth can't really imagine going back again, to living without his foster brother. The dynamics of his family have changed.

Permanently.

Changed for the better.

Everything about his life is better, now that Ryan is a part of it.

He sits on the couch and waits for Ryan to come home.

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Ed follows the directions Carol gave him. There's plenty of public parking. He dishes over five dollars and absentmindedly thanks the attendant.

He locates the hot dog stand and clumsily traverses over the sand, scanning the beach for Carol or one of the kids.

After a few minutes, he spots Carol's yellow beach hat. Ed does a double take when he realizes that Kirsten Cohen is talking with his sister. He lets out a surprised breath and wonders if Ryan is still around as well.

He wasn't expecting to see Ryan today or anytime in the near future. He assumes the Cohens are done allowing informal access to the teenager.

Ed's torn between calling Carol on her cell and having her warn Mrs. Cohen that he has arrived or simply walking up to the two women and dealing with yet another awkward, forced meeting.

And then he spies Ryan and Brad, in the ocean, together.

Ed sits down in the sand, steals a minute of parental voyeurism. He's too far away to hear anything. But he can recognize a happy Brad when he sees one.

Ryan is picking Brad up, tossing him back into the ocean. The kid must be strong. Why the hell is he in street clothes?

These two kids, his boys, interacting, should be gratifying. But instead, to Ed the moment is bittersweet. Yet another tease. Because it's becoming more and more apparent that even if Ryan is his biologically, he's not going to be allowed to be a part of his life without dragging the kid through the court system.

He doesn't understand how the Cohens can be so cruel. They should be helping Ryan make the transition to his family, not stashing the kid away in their Newport mansion.

Ed glances back on the shore.

Josh is sitting away from the women, alone, on his beach towel, elbows on his knees, curled up fists supporting his head.

Ed can't see his son's face but he has a good idea what expression is on it.

He decides to forgo calling his sister and just make his presence known by approaching Josh first.

Hands in his short's pockets, he walks quietly up to his son. He puts a hand on Josh's back to make the boy aware that he is there. Josh's head snaps back, no doubt to bite whoever has dared to invade his territory. But when he sees his dad, Josh seems to shrink a little. He pulls his knees up tighter, lays his head in his arms.

"Can I share your towel?" Ed asks. It's as good an icebreaker as anything else.

Josh doesn't lift his head but nods slightly.

Ed sits down.

"Do you want to tell me what happened today?"

Josh remains silent.

"Do you know why I'm here right now Josh?" Ed pushes. "I'm here because your Aunt Carol is afraid to bring you back to the hotel alone. Do you understand how serious that is Josh? That your Aunt Carol feels so uncomfortable with your actions this afternoon that she felt she had to call me? I'm going to go over there and talk to her. But before I do, is there anything you want to say to me?"

Josh shifts his head back and forth in a no.

"Ok," Ed concedes, says pointedly, "I'll be back in a minute. Do not leave this spot."

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Kirsten gathers up her belongings, throws them into her beach bag.

Ed's arrival hasn't gone unnoticed.

"Well, I should get Ryan," she informs Carol. "I still have a sick son at home. We need to get going."

"Right," Carol nods in agreement, "Thanks again for coming and...staying." She holds out her hand and the two women exchange an awkward handshake.

"Um," Carol digs around in her backpack, "Here. Here's my business card. My cell phone number is on it, if you need to call me for any reason."

Kirsten politely thanks her, places the card in her bag and walks towards the water.

Ryan and Brad continue their antics in the ocean. Kirsten glances back at Ed Carden. He's still talking to his other little boy. She needs to grab Ryan and get the hell out of here. Seeing Ed wasn't part of the bargain. Intentional or not, she feels as though she has violated both Ryan and Sandy's trust.

"Ryan," she calls out to him, motions for him to come to her when he turns around in response to hearing his name.

He flings Brad one more time and begins a slow trudge out of the sea.

When he reaches her, Kirsten hand him her towel.

"Thanks," he says, mops at his hair briskly.

Kirsten points to his jeans. "Comfortable?"

He looks out skeptically through wet bangs.

"Sorry," Kirsten laughs.

Brad catches up, asks a disappointed, "Are you leaving already?"

"I think you are too," Kirsten informs him. "You're dad's here."

"Yikes," Brad shutters. "Josh is going to be dead meat."

Kirsten decides it's in everyone's best interest to ignore the comment. She suggests to Ryan, "Why don't you run up ahead and get your boots?" She gives him the car keys. "I'll catch up with you. It takes me forever to go anywhere in the sand."

Ryan sneaks a quick glance at Ed Carden, nods a thankful, unspoken understanding.

"Um, I'll see you around," he tells Brad quietly.

Brad's eight. He thrives on the concrete. "When?"

Ryan rubs at his sore eye. "Um."

"We'll see sweetie," Kirsten intervenes, playfully musses with the top of Brad's hair. "There's no real set date."

"Bye," the boy gives Ryan a dejected half-wave, drops his head and begins the trek back to his aunt, dragging his feet through the sand.

"That is one cute kid," Kirsten comments aloud.

"Huh?" asks Ryan.

"Nothing," Kirsten answers. "Go get your boots."

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Ed listens to Carol's summary of the afternoon's events.

He tells himself to count to ten. Take a walk before he confronts Josh. Do something other than pull a volcano on his moping son.

But facts are facts. Josh left without telling Carol, he took Brad without telling Ryan. He tackled Ryan, kicked sand in his eyes, and screamed at him. Josh has managed to jeopardize everything Ed has been working towards since Thursday. Kirsten Cohen must think he's an awful parent. Ryan must think his kid is a brat.

He gets up quickly.

Carol reaches for his hand.

"Ed, something made Josh leave this beach. We should ask him why he left. He's never defied my instructions before. Anger isn't going to help anything at this point."

Ed ignores her suggestion, says coldly, "Can you help Brad get ready to go please Carol?"

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Ryan leans down to retrieve his boots. He watches from the corner of his eye as Carden says something to the Carol woman and then turns toward Josh's direction walking with determination.

Ryan knows that walk.

He's seen it a million times from dozens of people.

His own father, teachers, policemen, his mom, the guards at juvie.

Boyfriends.

Ryan picks up his boots, tells himself to just leave, go to the car like Kirsten said.

All of this has nothing to do with him. This man and this boy have nothing to do with him.

He just needs to put his head down and keep it down until he and Kirsten get home.

He starts to walk away. Tells himself that Josh is ten. He's big enough to deal with things. Dealing with things is the only way to learn.

Ryan takes a few more steps, sneaks another peak at Carden. The man has almost reached his son.

He's still walking so damn fast.

"Fuck," Ryan sighs, drops his boots and takes off running after Ed Carden.

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Kirsten holds out her hands in a question as Ryan soars past her.

"I'll be right back," he assures her.

She watches as Ryan runs up to Ed Carden. Stops. Talks to the man.

Sandy is so going to kill her.

No good deed goes unpunished.

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"Hey," Ryan calls out, halting Ed dead in his tracks. "Um, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Ed throws a glance in Josh's direction. The boy's head is up, observing his father and Ryan.

"Uh," Ed falters.

"Just one second," Ryan barters.

Ed plasters on a smile. "Sure, of course."

Ryan steers him in the opposite direction of Josh, to a secluded patch of the beach.

"How are you Ryan?" Ed asks, shifting from one foot to another. He swings his finger up and down, indicating to Ryan's clothes, "I see Brad persuaded you to take a dip."

Ryan skims past the chitchat.

"Yeah. Um, today was my fault. Not your kid's. Neither one of your kids did anything wrong."

Ed studies Ryan, zeroes in on his face.

"Where'd you get that black eye?" He asks suspiciously.

The sudden shift in conversation throws Ryan. He stammers, "Uh," shakes his head, "Practice, soccer practice."

"Did something happen last night Ryan, at the Cohens?" Ed pushes.

"What?" Ryan looks at Ed in utter bewilderment, then quickly realizes what the man is implying. "No, no. Nothing like that. It happened at soccer practice this morning."

"If something happened Ryan, you can trust me. I won't say anything. I'm sure last night was tense, after you returned to the Cohen's house. Maybe there was a disagreement."

"No," Ryan raises his voice. "No, the Cohens would never do anything like that."

"Sandy Cohen has a temper. I've heard it over the phone."

"What?" Ryan repeats. "No, Sandy never gets angry. I mean everyone gets angry but Sandy would never..."

Ryan stops talking, stares Ed in the eye.

"I'm new to the team. I'm taking up someone else's spot. A few people are pissed." Ryan halts briefly, his voice gets more subdued, "Sandy would never touch me."

Ed continues his silent study. Ryan assumes the accusation is dead.

"Look, I came to tell you that your kid didn't do anything wrong. I screwed up, I left your son alone to answer my phone."

Ed doesn't respond.

"Your kid didn't do anything wrong," Ryan repeats, adds softly, "He was only looking out for his brother. If you yell at him, you'll be the one that's wrong, 'cause I'm the one that f'd up, not your kid."

"You don't think I should punish Josh?" Ed asks slowly, carefully.

Ryan drops his head. Shakes it no. "No."

"He scared his aunt by walking away without telling her."

Ryan hadn't considered that part. He stalls for a second, says quietly, "I think he was just freaked out that I took off with his brother."

"What about his little temper tantrum?"

Ryan takes a gulp of air.

Let's see.

Attacking people when you feel threatened. Hmmmm.

Yep, he's feeling for the kid on this one.

"He was just doing what he thought was right."

Ed shakes his head back and forth. "I don't know. According to Carol, quite a bit happened this afternoon."

Ryan brushed his fingers through his wet hair. "I just thought you should know, not all of it is his fault. Most of it is mine."

Ryan starts to leave but Ed stops him, puts his hand on Ryan's arm. "Thanks for the information."

Ryan nods and Ed continues, "I know you're soaking wet and want to get back to the Cohens, but can I ask you a couple of questions? Just a few, I promise."

Ryan glances towards Kirsten. She's at the top of the beach, where sand meets parking lot.

"Kirsten is waiting for me."

"She'll understand," Ed assures him, doesn't wait for another answer. "So you play soccer, huh? Do you have a game this week? Maybe the boys and I can come and see you play."

Ryan's head is spinning. This guy has a way of coming at him so that he's never sure what they are even talking about.

"Uh, not this week. Look, I gotta take off."

"Where do you play? What high school do you go to?"

Ryan considers just bailing, walking away. "Um, Harbor."

"Is it big?" Ed asks another question. Ryan's fairly certain he knows where Brad gets his questioning skills. "Lots of competition?"

"No, it's pretty small. I think."

Ed's mind travels back to his earlier phone conversation with Kirsten Cohen. _"Ryan's in a good school."_

"Is it private?"

"Huh?" Ryan asks, distracted by thoughts that Kirsten must be getting angry, losing patience having to wait for him. He's got the car keys.

"Is Harbor a private school?"

"Yeah," Ryan answers absentmindedly. "I should take off now."

"Who pays for it?" Ed persists, ignoring Ryan's attempts to flee.

"Do the Cohens pay for it?"

Ryan takes a breath and stops staring at Kirsten. He focuses on Ed Carden's question. He's sure Carden isn't the first one that has wondered who is paying for him to go to Harbor. He's just sure that Carden is the first one who has actually asked him.

He drops his head, kicks at the sand with his bare feet, and scratches the back of his neck.

"Well yeah, I mean, I told them that public school was fine but they kept telling me..."

"No, Ryan, no, you don't owe me an explanation. I'm just a little amazed that a foster family would be forking over the amount of money it must take to send a kid they barely know to prep school in Newport Beach."

Ryan digs a hole in the sand with his foot.

"Hey, tell you what," Carden pats Ryan on the shoulder. "I took my part of the paternity test today. I want to thank you for agreeing to it. Why don't you take it tomorrow, we can get the test results back before I leave California, and if it's positive, like I think we both know it will be, I'll cut a check to the Cohens before I go back home, and pay for Harbor. That way you won't feel like you owe them any money. Well, not for school at least. Maybe we can set up a bank account out here for you. Give you a little independence. Ok? Foster families aren't really supposed to pay for so many things. Let me shoulder some of the responsibility. It's the least I can do."

"Um," Ryan's foot generates a bigger and bigger hole in the sand.

"And thanks again Ryan, for agreeing to come out here today. It looks like Brad had a ball. It'll be great, having someone else in the family that he can look up to. He plays soccer too, did you know that? Maybe you could give him a few pointers."

Ryan nods. He's done talking. His brain is flipping through Cardens comments like a black jack dealer shuffling a new shoe.

"Brad will be so excited Ryan, when we decide to tell him the news that you're his brother. Josh will be too. They're both great kids."

Ryan keeps his head down, his last line of defense, mute, now in overdrive.

"You better take off, get into some dry clothes."

Carden slaps him on the shoulder one last time. "Take care of that eye. If you need to call me about anything, or just tell me anything, please, don't hesitate to do so. I promised to lay off, so I'll leave it in your hands."

He jogs off in the direction of his boys.

When Ryan finally reaches Kirsten she asks nervously, "Is everything ok? You were talking to him for a while. I'm sorry Ryan, I didn't mean to put you in this position."

He walks with her to the car, fakes a nonchalant smile.

Opens her door, jokes about how wet he is.

Grins at her again.

Smiles always calm her down.

He's watched Seth and Sandy do it thousand times.

He knows how to put Kirsten at ease.

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Carol dries Brad off. He complains that he's cold, snuggles up in the towel, sits in her lap, let's her hug him. She claims it's to help trap heat. He buys it, allows the closeness.

He's still at that age where mood dictates affection.

She puts her chin on top of his head, lays her cheek on his wet hair.

"I love you," she whispers in his ear.

"I love you too," he whispers back.

"Did you have fun with Ryan?"

Brad nods.

"He's a nice boy."

"He's totally cool," Brad corrects her.

Of course, Carol laughs to herself, what was she thinking?

Ed walks past them, up to Josh. Carol watched from afar as he and Ryan spoke to each other.

Whatever they talked about has Ed in better spirits.

He's more restrained, less frazzled.

"This is going to get ugly," Brad tells Carol, shifts his body so that he is even closer to her. He turns his head into her shoulder, away from the action.

"Come on," Carol helps him stand up, "This is none of our business."

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"Why did you take Brad? Do you even care that your Aunt Carol was frantic, worried sick that something had happened to the both of you?"

Ed stands above Josh, his shadow engulfing the boy.

"I've heard everyone's side but yours Josh. I need you to talk to me son. I need to understand what happened here today."

"I'm sorry." Josh tries unsuccessfully to choke back his emotions.

Ed leans down, squats next to his son.

"What happened Josh?"

"I'll tell Aunt Carol I'm sorry."

"Good," Ed nods, "but I still need to know what happened."

The boy sits still, stares at the ocean.

He lays his head back into the protective zone of his folded arms.

"I'm sorry," he begins sobbing. "I don't know what happened. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me."

Ed waits for Josh to stop crying.

After five minutes he gives up.

Picks his son up and carries him to the car.

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Seth borrows his father's laptop, cruises various sites looking for humiliating ringtones to download into Ryan's cell phone.

Hey, he warned him last week not to leave it lying around. He knows just which corner in the kitchen Ryan plugs it in at night.

Should be a piece of cake.

Cake.

Where's his Dad? Where's the blender?

He hears the front door and waits in anticipation.

Yes!

The Kirsten followed by The Ryan.

A very wet, drenched, Ryan.

Seth closes the laptop.

This should be good.

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Seth forces Ryan to tell the story twice.

He decides his favorite part is when the ten-year-old kicks Ryan's ass.

"So he absolutely tackled you?" Seth confirms. "All alone?"

Ryan nods, his head in his hand.

"Are you sure the aunt didn't help, sneak up on you and maybe tip you a little bit?"

"Seth."

"I'm just saying, I mean, dude. Ten? You got your ass kicked by someone who still needs a booster seat."

Ryan glares at him.

"I mean, I know, you were kneeling and he caught you off guard but still..."

Seth holds out his hand at the delayed ending of his sentence, and then quickly shakes his head.

"Nope, sorry Ryan. Can't think of a damn thing to say except....dude...a ten-year-old?"

"I need to take a shower," Ryan attempts to excuse himself.

"I'll stop, I'll stop," Seth tries to backpedal, keep Ryan talking. He's been so bored all day, sitting around by himself. Ryan can suffer a few more minutes of wetness in order to satiate his social needs.

"The black eye?" Seth cringes. "Wait, don't tell me...the eight-year-old?"

"Your moral support is under-whelming," Ryan mumbles, stands up. "I gotta' get out of these clothes."

"All right, all right," Seth concedes. "Dad told me about the eye. Soccer practice." He makes eye contact with Ryan, "Luke and friends?"

Ryan nods.

"Shitheads," Seth sympathizes.

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes," Ryan promises, pulls at the clingy clothes.

"What else happened?" Seth tries one last time to delay Ryan's inevitable departure.

"Well, something else happened, right? Spill."

Ryan stares at him.

Seth motions back and forth between the two of them. "Come on Ryan. It's just the two of us, Mano y Mano. Atwood, Cohen. Something else is brewing under that blank exterior. What else happened?"

Ryan maintains his stare, pretends he has no idea what Seth is referring to.

"So what, the guy showed up and you and Mom just took off?"

"Yep," Ryan answers.

"Well was it weird, seeing that guy again?"

"The whole day was weird Seth."

Seth drops his head. Shit. Another few years of this and he'll be qualified to be a special investigator. Ryan's constant lack of forthcoming is frustrating at best.

"You two didn't say a single word to each other?"

"I don't know," Ryan stalls, studies the floor. "Maybe, yeah, I mean, he may have said something."

Seth raises an eyebrow. "Maybe? How is that possible? I mean either he said something to you or he didn't. So did he, say something to you? Perhaps, gee, I'm sorry my crazy ass kid attacked you?"

Ryan's head pops up. "The kid's not crazy. I fucked up with the little one."

Oh, sore spot, Seth deducts. Maybe not so much with the humor directed against the kids.

But something's off with Ryan.

Well, more than the usual off. He's so guarded. Like back in the day, when he first came to live with them. He's doling out information in bite size proportions, not offering the full meal deal.

Something else happened today besides what happened with those kids.

Or maybe, Seth decides, he's just been sitting on this couch too long and his Ryan Atwood Mood-o-Meter is slightly askew. He's still off his game, not back to full life force.

"So you're good?" He asks Ryan tentatively, holds out his fist for Ryan to pound. "Everything's coolio?"

"Yeah," Ryan nods, returns the gesture. "I'll be back."

Seth doesn't buy it for one second. Still, Ryan looks miserable in his wet clothes. He'll let the guy off the hook temporarily. It'll give him a few more minutes to gather the troops and get ready for a second assault against Ryan's firewall.

Ryan starts to leave the room.

"Oh, hey," Seth calls out after him, says sweetly, "don't forget to recharge your phone. I know it got a workout today, what with losing small children and everything."

"Thanks," Ryan replies, shuffles out of the living room towards the kitchen.

"Sucka," Seth whispers to himself as he picks the laptop back up.

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Kirsten inspects Seth's room, trying to make up for the time lost with her son today. The bedroom smells like sickness. She decides to strip the sheets, freshen things up a bit. It was poor timing on Rosa's part, choosing this weekend to visit relatives.

She smiles at the discarded items strewn across his floor. Everything in here reminds her of her son. She takes a mental picture. Soon all this will be gone, packed up with Seth and his looming future without them. She envies Ed Carden. He has years left with both his boys.

Sandy sticks his head in.

"Hey, how'd things go?"

"Ok, I guess," she sighs. "Well, who knows? Ryan pretended to sleep on the way home."

"Yeah, avoidance maneuver number three." Sandy grins. "He's pretty good at those, isn't he?"

"Are you going to say it now or later?" Kirsten eyes her husband suspiciously. "Just say it now and get it over with."

"What?" Sandy asks innocently.

"I told you so," Kirsten pulls one of Seth's pillows out of its' case. "I know you're dying to say it and the afternoon was mostly a disaster, so, go ahead and say it. You were right, I shouldn't have pushed for Ryan to go and see the kids."

Sandy puts his arms around her.

"You had Ryan's best interests at heart Kirsten. I'm not going to mock that."

She leans back into him, allows his weight to support her own. Sandy nibbles at her ears, tells her he loves her.

He hopes the boys will go to bed early tonight.

"Oh hey," he remembers Caleb's earlier phone call. "You father called, he seems pretty stressed."

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Ryan and his wet jeans meander into the kitchen.

A noise gets his attention. The baby monitor on the kitchen counter crackles to life.

"_Oh hey, your father called, he seems pretty stressed." _

Sandy's voice.

The monitor is down low, but Ryan can still clearly make out the conversation.

He hears Kirsten sigh. _"I know what he wants."_

Ryan hurries to plug his phone in. Maybe he should just leave the kitchen or turn the monitor off. But he's halfway to the cord he needs. He'll just ignore the monitor. Eavesdropping is Seth's hobby, not his.

"_He's freaked out about the Denton site."_ Kirsten's weary voice flows out of the baby monitor. _"We're having a little cash flow problem."_

Ryan plugs in his phone. Decides to grab a soda before heading out to the pool house.

_"You guys landed Denton? Honey that's great. You've been after that deal, what, two years?"_

Ryan heads for the patio door, soda in hand. He screws off the lid, takes a sip. God, he can't wait to get in the shower. Maybe he can wash this whole miserable day away. Send Carden's comments and the doubts they have dusted off down the drain.

_"Well, we did land it, but it's on hold now. The insurance company is dragging its' feet paying out on the fire."_

Ryan's brain and heart come to a standstill.

The fire.

His fire.

Kirsten is talking about the model home he burned down.

"_Why?"_ Sandy asks.

_"We didn't press charges. They want to investigate things further. It's just a stupid stall tactic. Someone even called my office last week, requesting to interview Ryan, told me if I agreed to let him speak with Ryan it would speed the entire process up. He must have called my father too, because Dad's been hounding me to allow the claims adjuster to have access to Ryan."_

_"Gotta love Cal. To hell with Ryan and his emotional needs. It's all about the money."_

"_Well, in his defense Sandy, the Denton deal is being put on hold because of it. Dad just doesn't know Ryan yet. He doesn't understand why I'm protecting him."_

Ryan feels sick to his stomach. He puts the soda on the breakfast bar.

"_Besides,"_ Kirsten voice is full of forced humor, _"I've waited two years, what's a few more months. And if Denton bails, oh well, it's only millions of dollars. Even if I was considering allowing Ryan to be interviewed, there's no way it'll happen now, not with everything else Ryan is going through."_

Ryan's heard enough.

He bursts out into what's left of the afternoon sun, heads for the pool house.

Shit, what did he expect would happen?

Everything to just magically go away?

How many of his messes are the Cohens still cleaning up, behind his back?

Ryan takes a huge, shaky breath, gets into the shower as quickly as possible, turns up the water as hot as he can stand it and sits on the floor of the shower stall.

He hates himself and he hates that he has grown weak, allowing himself to become dependent on these people.

He's a fucking loser, a pain in the ass.

All of Sandy's previous words and assurances fade away.

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To be continued......................


	20. Best of Intentions Chapter Nineteen

Disclaimer: Did I say one week? I meant two. I am a very bad person. I know that.

Author Notes: A few comments...

**Antigone:** Dead wife's insurance money. I alluded to it like 40 chapters ago. You're supposed to remember that! lol

**Melanie**: You got it right with the boys.

**Garnet** has suggested dead!Ed by means of bad oysters or fast food poisoning.

Welcome **Shirl**.

Thanks for the nudge **Silverweaver, Melster** and **Brandy**.

Still building the golden idol to my beta **crashcmb**.

This chapter is dedicated to **storymom**. She'll figure out why. It's her favorite reason...ever!

Thanks for reading everyone! I know, I don't deserve you!

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Nineteen

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His hair still dripping wet from the shower, Ryan uses the pool house phone to call Marissa.

She's not a part of everything that is happening.

Marissa is a separate piece of his life.

She's safe.

She doesn't know about Ed Carden's existence or Kirsten's lies of omission or Sandy's constant pity.

Or his continuing doubts about his place among these people and this new life.

He's Marissa's support system. He's the one who she depends on.

He's in control when they are together.

He's in control.

Ryan needs to be with her.

He hopes she hasn't been drinking.

He needs her tonight, to be there for him. Even though he has no intention of telling her a damn thing, he just needs her to be stable.

Only for tonight.

Ryan needs this one night to be without crisis. He just wants to sit on her couch and hold her and watch TV and be alone with her and not deal with anyone fucking else. No talking, no probing. She never digs deep with him. She's easy to distract.

When Marissa answers the phone and says hello, Ryan hears her voice, feels that familiar tingle of excitement and momentarily forgets that his life is in a tailspin.

She's angry with him at first. Why hasn't he called all weekend, where were he and Seth Thursday night? Why weren't they at the party?

How could he just ignore her?

Where has he been?

Ryan explains that Seth is sick, was in the hospital Thursday and Friday and Marissa's entire demeanor instantly changes.

"Oh my god Ryan, that's horrible. Is he ok now?"

"He's better," Ryan rushes. "I want to see you, now. Can you come get me?"

She's quiet, doesn't answer him right away and Ryan's afraid that his uncharacteristic directness has already tipped her off that something is wrong with him.

"Are you ok?" Marissa finally asks. "You sound...weird."

Ryan squeezes the fist that isn't clutching the phone, fakes a smile even though he's alone, says casually, "I'm good. I just miss you. I want to see you."

She'll fall for it.

All the girls he's ever wanted casual relief or distraction from have fallen for it. Make them feel like they are the most important person in the world. _I miss you, I want to see you_. _You're beautiful._ It's a simple formula. It's amazing to him that kids like Seth can't figure it out. Girls are so easy to sway.

But with Marissa, Ryan thinks he might actually mean the words. He does miss her. He does want to see her. Another fucking slap in his face of how much he has grown to depend on Newport.

Everything he wants is here.

The Cohens.

Marissa.

Opportunity.

Safety.

None of it belongs to him.

He's done pretending.

"I just want to see you," he repeats into the phone.

Get through tonight, he just has to get out of the Cohen's house and get through tonight.

This time Marissa is fast on the reply. Maybe she senses that, for once, he needs her more than she needs him. "I'm coming. I'll be there in ten minutes."

Ryan hangs up, trying to figure out the easiest route away from everyone and everything.

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Seth is in distress for a myriad of reasons.

First off, his throat continues to be absolutely unbearable.

And he feels like one of those hapless space travelers in Aliens with his stomach distended from his still swollen spleen. He doesn't like to think about the spleen thing. It gives him the hebbie jebbies. Any part of his body ready to burst is just not something he wants to dwell on. He should mention to his dad at least, that his stomach has been hurting a little more. But that will no doubt result in a mad dash for the hospital and screw that 'cause the hospital sucks, big time.

His dad hands him a dosage cup of Motrin. The freaking fever is still looming. Seth's gotten so used to feeling permanently stoned from the increase in his body temperature that the affects of the fever are mostly just annoying now.

He has trouble concentrating when his temp is up.

Seth's mind is his best friend. He relies on it for constant companionship and it's been failing him of late. He's not used to having this much trouble arranging his thoughts.

He quickly swallows the Motrin, shoves the small plastic dispenser back at his father, doesn't bother with a thank you.

Concentrate, Seth admonishes himself.

Ryan's coming back up from the pool house in few minutes and sure as shit something's wrong with him. Something happened at the beach today, something his mom and dad aren't picking up on.

Ryan's wiggy.

Seth can just tell.

He gets up from his nest on the couch, hoping that a stroll around the house will ease the pressure on his stomach. He stops in at the kitchen, checks out the display on Ryan's cell phone.

Ha! Love it when a plan comes together.

His surprise ring tone has successfully downloaded into Ryan's phone. Seth presses the end button to clear the display, puts the cell phone back in the corner.

His mom comes into the kitchen and asks, "Are you hungry sweetie? I could make you some soup."

"Ahhhhh, no," Seth replies quickly. "Thanks but um, your soup sucks Mom, no offense."

Before his mom can rattle off a million other things he has no intention of eating, Seth asks her, "Why did you make Ryan go see those kids today?"

He watches her as she tenses up.

"I didn't force Ryan to do anything Seth. Your father and I gave him a choice."

"Uh huh," Seth says dully. "He's going to do whatever you guys tell him to do."

"We didn't tell him to do anything honey," his mom tries to assure him.

But Seth isn't buying it. Ryan still caters to his parents' every wish. Well, most of their wishes. As long as he isn't pissed about something or pissed at someone. Ryan caters to everyone's wishes.

Seth sits down wearily at the breakfast bar. "Well what happened today Mom? Because Ryan's acting all goofy. I mean he says everything's cool, but it's not."

His mom stares back at him with obvious confusion.

Parents.

God they're so clueless.

How do they manage to function?

It's a miracle of modern evolution.

"I'm not sure what you mean Seth," his mom answers. "He seemed fine on the way home."

Seth's amazed at how quickly the mono can turn his mood sour. When Ryan and The Kirsten first came home, he was actually feeling sorta ok. Now the mono is kicking his ass again.

He yawns.

It's tempting to just go off on his mom, let her know that the very fact that Ryan seems fine is indication enough that something is sure as hell screwy and isn't she just a dumbass for not realizing that fact. But if he calls her a dumbass, then his dad will get all defensive and his mom will get all weepy and he'll eventually feel like a spoiled shit for saying it, so instead he flops his head down and lays the majority of his upper body onto the kitchen counter.

Seth hears the patio door open quietly.

He doesn't bother to look up right away.

Ryan's the only one besides his mom who enters the house that calmly.

"I'm in the mood for psuedo-zombies," Seth mutters from his fleshy shell. "Let's break out 28 Days Later."

When Ryan answers softly, "I'm going out with Marissa," Seth looks up immediately.

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The whole way up from the pool house Ryan kept hoping that Seth would be asleep.

He doesn't want to deal with Seth, doesn't want to deal with Seth's need to be with him, doesn't want to deal with the guilt of running out on Seth.

Ryan can muster up some anger at Kirsten for treating him like a fucking baby that needs protection. And he can be pissed at Sandy for encouraging him be honest when he himself is so willing to hide Kirsten's secret about the model home fire.

Ryan's furious with himself for setting the goddamn fire in the first place, and wearing the fucking hundred dollar shirts that Kirsten so effortlessly provides him and constantly taking the Cohen's money and eating their food and sleeping in their house and always repaying them with nothing but disappointment and one avoidable calamity after another.

"_What if I don't want to find my mom?"_

He had asked Sandy that, months ago. And he thought at the time that Sandy didn't want him to want to find her either. That Sandy felt just like he did, that the two of them had been waiting to stumble into each other all his fucking miserable life.

But he has a family. Hell, he's got two now.

New dad, new brothers, instant family.

And he has a mom, useless as she is, and the Cohens have each other and all good things must come to an end.

He respects Sandy and this family too much to stay.

Too much to stay and continue to add one bullshit complication after another, more and more bills and expenses that he'll never be able to repay.

He can't look Kirsten in the face.

He wishes that Seth was asleep.

"I, um, haven't seen Marissa all weekend, so I thought, you know, I'd go out with her tonight."

"But I'm sick," Seth blurts out, and then seems to realize how pathetic he sounds. "I mean, I guess I just assumed you'd stay here... with me."

Seth stares at him in anticipation.

Ryan diverts his eyes, glances at his watch. "I better go."

He grabs his cell phone and starts to walk out of the kitchen.

"Ryan?" Kirsten calls out after him, keeps pace with him into the living room. "Wait a minute. Maybe Seth's right. We've all had a busy day. Why don't you invite Marissa in? You guys can watch movies together. Sandy and I will make ourselves scarce."

Ryan tries to force himself to make eye contact with his foster mother but he can't do it. "I'll be back by two," he mumbles, quickens his pace.

"Ryan," Kirsten hurries to catch up, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he answers, changes his route slightly so he can walk the opposite direction of Kirsten but still escape to the front door.

"This sucks," Seth complains from behind them. "I waited around all freaking day for you and now you're ditching me for the drama queen? What, you don't have enough problems right now?"

Ryan takes a deep breath.

Seth just made it a little easier to walk out the door.

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Oops, Seth thinks to himself.

That was probably not the brightest thing to say.

But it's true. Ryan's life is a mess right now. The last thing he needs to be doing is immersing himself in Marissa Cooper's never-ending trials and tribulations. Ryan should be staying home, hanging out with him, watching a movie or whatever.

In an effort to keep the peace, Seth offers, "What I meant to say was that Marissa probably already has plans with Summer tonight and if you make her cancel them to be with you, then Summer will get all huffy and then you will be committing the ultimate boyfriend blunder, getting between two girls and then Summer will end up resenting you and force Marissa to choose between her and you and Marissa will cry and end up picking Summer because they have been friends since, I don't know, in utero, and then you'll be all depressed and stuck at home anyway. So you see," Seth leans against the wall, holds his side, "I'm only trying to spare you impending pain and sorrow."

He looks at Ryan. "I'm here for you man. I'm always one step ahead, looking out for you. So what will it be, zombies or vampire slayers? I'm all about the flexible tonight Ryan. I'm declaring it Ryan Atwood night."

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"What's going on?" Sandy steps into the living room, rubs his hands together. "Did I hear someone mention zombies?"

"Yeah," Seth chimes in. "Actually, I was just reminding Ryan here of the benefits of staying home on a Saturday night, right Ryan?"

Sandy glances from a nervous Kirsten to an anxious Seth and lastly to a slightly hunched over Ryan. The kid looks all spruced up. Sandy doubts very highly that Seth is the reason for the clean clothes and combed hair.

"You headed out Ryan?" he asks carefully.

Ryan nods.

"Do you think you should ask permission before you take off?" Sandy says cheerfully. But his voice his full of obvious authority. "Or maybe just take a second to update Kirsten or me on your plans."

Ryan keeps his head down. "Marissa is coming to pick me up."

"Ok, well, that's certainly reasonable," Sandy shakes his head up and down. "Where are you two going?"

Ryan's voice is soft, "Back to her dad's place."

Sandy takes a step closer to the action.

"It's been an insane couple of days for us all Ryan. I was hoping we could just chill here at the house, have a quiet night."

"Why don't you invite Marissa in?" Kirsten suggests again, "We'd all like to see her. And then Seth can have you two around instead of being stuck with Sandy and me."

"Are you saying I can't go?" Ryan mutters to no one in particular.

Sandy sneaks a glance at Kirsten. She shrugs, confused by Ryan's behavior. Seth catches his dad's eye and makes the crazy symbol followed by a shrug of his own.

He walks up to Ryan, puts a hand on the boy's shoulder and is surprised when Ryan visibly flinches and moves over slightly to break the casual contact.

"Why don't you put off leaving for a little while? Kirsten and I have a few things we'd like to discuss with you. For instance, we never really finished our conversation from this morning."

Sandy tries to sound jovial but he knows his voice is picking up tension, like an avalanche gaining momentum.

"She's already on her way," Ryan answers, his voice flat.

"Well, call her and tell her to turn around and come back in an hour or so," Sandy counters.

"Are you saying I can't go?" Ryan casts several hesitant looks at his foster father before looking Sandy straight in the eye.

Defiance.

Sandy flashes back to the interview room at juvie.

"No," Sandy says leadingly, fumbling to keep things from escalating, "I'm just wondering what the big rush is. You and Kirsten barely got home. Let's eat dinner together, then you and Marissa can go out. If she's already on her way over, she can join us."

"Why can't I just go?" Ryan doesn't back down. "I just want to get out of here for a little while."

"What about me?" Seth reminds everyone of his presence. "What, are you just going to leave me hanging? I'm bored. You can't just abandon me in my moment of need."

Ryan doesn't answer.

"Ryan," Kirsten says quietly, "I think Sandy and I just want to make sure that you're all right after today's events."

"I'm fine," he retorts. "Can I go now?"

"You're not fine Ryan," Sandy disagrees. "Something obviously has you upset."

Ryan swings his head in Sandy's direction and mumbles, "Can I go or not?"

"I don't think so," Sandy makes a decision. "I think you need to let us know what's going on with you."

"Fine," Ryan shakes his head in frustration, leaves the living room for the kitchen. "I'll be in my room."

"Want to rethink that whole Ryan seemed just peachy in the car thing?" Seth whispers to Kirsten.

"Not now Seth," she answers impatiently, follows Sandy following Ryan into the kitchen.

"Ryan, hey," Sandy tries to slow the teenager down, "what's wrong? Can you hold up and talk to me please? You can still see Marissa tonight. I just want to make sure you're ok."

The teenager comes to an abrupt halt.

"I'm fine!" He slams an open palm on the kitchen counter.

Ryan's raised voice brings everyone to a stand still. They all stare at him. He presses his hand against the side of his head and then flings them out to the side of his body.

"God, back off. I'm fine, I'm fine, everything's fine. Can I please just get out of here?"

Silence.

Kirsten wraps her arms around her mid-section.

"Go," Sandy says quietly. "I want you home by midnight."

Ryan flashes a look of regret at Seth but quickly replaces it with a mask of indifference.

He exits the house without saying another word.

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To be continued.......................


	21. Best of Intentions Chapter Twenty

**Author's notes:** I have absolutely nothing snarky or glib or charming to say. I am ashamed that this update took so long. Once upon a time I had this story more or less done. Then my mind said, "Maybe you could just........" I know in the end it will be a better story but sorry for the delays.

Thanks everyone for your patience and sticking by me.

Everyone thank **crashcmb** for bugging me. Hi **crashcmb**.

On with the drama.........................

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Twenty

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As soon as the front door closes, the three Cohens turn on each other in a frenzy of accusations.

"What? He just gets to leave?" Seth protests. "If I acted like that I'd be chained to my room on bread and water."

Sandy ignores his son, says to Kirsten, "I thought you said Ryan was acting normally on the drive home."

"He was," Kirsten shakes her head, "I mean I thought he was. No, I know he was fine. He was even joking with me."

Seth holds out a finger, waves it at his mother. "Ok, hello? I'm sorry. Ryan joking is... acting normal to you? Huh. Because I think, to a rational person, that might be a big red flag."

He practically shouts _big_, spreads out his hands in unison with the word.

Kirsten flinches at the stinging sarcasm.

"Cool it Seth," Sandy admonishes.

"Oh yes, I should just cool it because, clearly, I'm the only problem here. Let's see. Who was with Ryan all day? Oh, yeah, that's right, that would be you two. No, wait, I stand corrected. That would be Mom and that family that you guys forced him to see. Did it ever occur to you two that maybe something happened at the Carden family reunion?"

Seth turns to his mother, "Did you have time to mention to Dad that little incident in which Ryan was attacked by the ten year-old? Or better yet, how about the guest appearance by long lost daddy dearest? You remember him Dad, right? The guy that you were talking about getting a restraining order against?"

Seth nods furiously, "Yep. He pretty much showed up. If I'm following Ryan's lack of information flow correctly, the guy walked right up to him and started chatting away."

Seth stops talking long enough to catch his breath. Grimace. Struggle with a swallow.

"How am I doing Mom? Am I batting a thousand in the summary department? You might want to jump in and help me out. Ryan isn't exactly a bastion of information."

"Go upstairs Seth," Sandy's voice is its' version of ominous. "You're done talking."

"Oh yeah, bully the sick one around Dad. What a challenge. I'm so impressed."

"Seth," Kirsten says sharply. "What is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me?" Seth says disbelievingly. "Gee, I don't know mom. How about mono or this freaking temperature or my sore throat or my sto..." Seth stalls his sentence momentarily but then regains his composure, "or the fact that Ryan just basically walked out of this house when you guys should have made him stay."

Kirsten's shoulders sag with Seth's synopsis of his illness. "Honey, I know you don't feel well and I'm sure that you're disappointed that Ryan left instead of staying with you tonight but..."

"This isn't about Ryan watching a stupid movie with me," Seth interrupts his mother, points towards the front door. "There is something seriously wrong with him." He shakes his head in disgust, starts heading for the stairs, throws up his arms. "I give up."

"Seth," his mother calls after him.

"Kirsten," Sandy interjects, "let him go honey. He's tired. He's sick. He's been stuck in bed for days. Let him calm down. We'll go up in a few minutes, together."

Kirsten nods and Sandy can see that she is struggling to hold back tears. He feels like a bastard for asking but he has to know.

"Kirsten, honey, catch me up with what's going on here. What's Seth was talking about? Ryan saw Ed this afternoon?"

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Ryan climbs into Marissa's truck.

She leans over to kiss him and gasps, "What happened to your eye?"

"Sandy hit me," Ryan scoffs.

"What?" Marissa asks, mouth wide-open, eyes as big as Oreos.

"Nothing," Ryan laughs at his private joke. "Sorry, bad joke. Um, soccer practice. It's no big deal."

"Does it hurt?" Marissa asks, lightly brushing the corner of his eye.

Her finger sends a bolt of electricity up his thigh. He reaches out tentatively for her, but then gains confidence and pulls her close, gives her a long, drawn out kiss.

"I don't want to talk about my eye," he states teasingly as he slowly releases her.

Marissa lingers in his personal space a few seconds, smiles coyly.

"My dad won't be home until late."

She puts the truck in reverse, backs up, begins chattering about how she and Summer spent the day.

Ryan's mind wanders.

He catches every other word.

Sale, clothes, nails, her mom...such a bitch.

Marissa concentrates on driving and talking, doesn't notice his attention is fixed out the window and not on her.

Doesn't notice that Ryan keeps staring out into the setting sun, until he can no longer see the Cohens' house.

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Brad's not sure what's going on but he knows damn well when to keep his mouth shut. His dad and Aunt Carol and Josh are in his aunt's hotel room. They told him to stay put; they would be back in a few minutes. Brad's learned, in the six months since his mother's death, how to become a part of the furniture. He sits quietly at the small table in his father's hotel room drawing a picture of waves, with surfboards and a big yellow sun and Ryan and him, playing in the ocean.

Sketching.

That's what his art teacher, Mr. Dobbs, calls it. Before his mom died, Brad drew all the time. Now he does just enough to keep Mr. Dobbs off his back. If Aunt Carol wants a picture, he'll make one for her. Anything just to keep the adults from thinking that he's some crazy person, like Janet Sims when her dad died of a heart attack. All of the teachers hugging her and letting her cry constantly and getting in her face all the time. "Janet honey, are you ok? Do you need to see the counselor?"

Brad's memorized what to tell people if they ask how he is doing. _"I'm ok. I know my mom is in a better place."_ If the adult is a real pain in the ass about it and asks if he is really, really all right, and bugging him to 'open up and talk about it', Brad might add, _"And she's with God now."_

That shuts them down every time.

Whatever.

Brad gets it.

His mom was in a car that got hit by a big truck and now she's dead.

Crying and being a jerk isn't going to bring her back, so why Josh bothers to spend time on either activity is a mystery to Brad. Might as well keep Dad and the other grown-ups happy.

Behave, smile, and throw in an occasional hug.

What's so hard about that?

Brad puts the finishing touches on the picture, smudges a little black under Ryan's eye.

Ryan's the first person Brad has ever met who has had a black eye.

He wishes his friends could meet Ryan.

In the far corner Brad adds her, his mom, watching. He always includes her, in every single picture that he's drawn since she died. He never gives her a face, sometimes barely gives her a body. But he always makes sure she's there, somewhere, observing. No one's ever noticed.

Maybe once he draws her, she becomes invisible to everyone but him.

Brad scrutinizes the drawing.

Studies it, remembers what's missing.

He pencils in a small Josh, alone, watching from the shore.

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Carol stands in the corner, allows Ed to converse with his son under the semblance of privacy. She was going to stay with Brad, but Ed asked her to come along. Since arriving in California, she's been unsure of what her brother wants from her. One minute he's requesting to have her and her opinions around, the next second he's basically telling her to keep her nose out of anything involving him and his relationship with his sons.

Sons.

Three now, no longer just two.

Carol still can't believe her baby brother has a sixteen-year-old. God, Ed can barely manage a ten-year-old. How in the hell does he plan on providing guidance to an almost grown young man?

Thank heavens for the Cohens.

If Kirsten Cohen is for real, her family at least seems to have a handle on Ryan and is providing him with a decent home.

Thank God the teenager is no longer with Dawn and Russell. It would kill her brother to leave California knowing that a child of his was living under those conditions.

She watches as Josh accepts a tissue from his father.

Ed pats Josh's back and stands up. He walks over to Carol and whispers, "I'm going to go get Josh a juice, call Gina Kirkpatrick. She never called me back from this morning and she'll want to know what happened," he pauses, runs his finger through his hair, "today."

Carol nods. She feels numb, confused. What the hell did happen today? She's still not sure and she was there. She worried about Josh's mental stability, thankful that Ed seems to be taking today's outburst seriously enough to contact the boy's therapist. Carol puts a hand on one of Ed's shoulders, gives him a small smile. He puts his hand over hers, returns a sad smile.

"I love you Josh. I'll be right back Son," Ed says quietly before leaving the hotel room.

When the door shuts, Josh drops his head, shakes it back and forth, begins crying again.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, "Please don't hate me."

Carol is on the bed, next to Josh, before her mind even registers that she has moved.

"Shhh," she tells him. "No one hates you Josh. Not your father and not me and not Brad. We all love you."

Josh gains some control, slows his breathing, and wipes his eyes with the back of his arm.

Sits as still as a skyscraper.

"Who are those people?" he asks Carol, his voice cracking, barely above a whisper. "Who are that lady and that boy?"

"I'm not stupid," he adds, and she stares at him, shocked, speechless.

Josh gazes out the balcony door, "I'm not stupid."

He puts his head in his hands and bawls.

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Ryan casually asks Marissa to stop at a convenience store.

He's certain she doesn't have a clue as to how tense he feels, but he's pretty sure if he doesn't get a hold of a cigarette in about thirty seconds he just might put his fist through the nearest window.

Marissa wants to go with him into the store, but Ryan's hesitant to allow her. She looks younger than him. He can't risk the clerk carding him. Newport Beach convenience store clerks actually give a shit about minors and tobacco laws. He saunters into the store, grabs a soda, mumbles his cigarette brand. The clerk asks for ID and Ryan glares up skeptically at him through shaggy bangs.

If he weren't so tired he'd go for menacing.

"Ok," the clerk sighs in resignation. "But don't come back here without ID 'cause I'm not selling to you again."

"Thanks man," Ryan mutters, grabs his smokes from the counter.

He fucking hates having to practically beg for a measly pack of cigarettes.

He more or less pleaded to leave the Cohens' tonight.

He never had to bargain for his freedoms in Chino.

Newport's not really all that perfect.

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"Ed showed up to take the boys home Sandy. The oldest one was upset and Carol didn't feel comfortable taking him back to the hotel by herself. I asked Ryan first, honey, whether or not he wanted to stay or leave before Ed Carden came. Ryan said he wanted to stay. He knew Ed was coming."

Sandy tries to keep his voice calm, collected. "Why didn't you call me?"

Kirsten flops her hands to her side, "Why? What good would that have done Sandy? You would have told me to just leave and then Ryan and I would have been abandoning Carol Carden, and I would have been ignoring Ryan's wishes."

"It's not your job or Ryan's to intercede on behalf of that family Kirsten."

She looks at him with controlled contempt. "That family _is_ Ryan's family Sandy. If you can't bring yourself to say it, then I will for you. Like it or not, they are a part of him now and we need to make sure that Ryan feels like he can be a part of them. Ryan knew Ed was coming and he chose to stay anyway. It wasn't my decision to make Sandy, it was Ryan's. We already talked about this, didn't we? Didn't we decide to allow Ryan to share more in the decision making?"

Sandy sighs. "The boys are one thing Kirsten. But Ed Carden," Sandy shakes his head. "I still don't trust the guy Kirsten. Every time Ryan has any kind of contact with that man, he ends up a mess." Sandy looks at her, asks imploringly, "You have to see that honey, don't you? Tell me that you see what a negative impact this guy seems to have on Ryan."

Kirsten stares at her husband. "I don't know Sandy."

Sandy glances at his watch, four more hours until Ryan is due home.

His son was right. Something is definitely wrong with Ryan. Sandy wonders if he made a gigantic mistake allowing the kid to leave tonight. He wishes like hell that Kirsten had told him about Ed Carden the minute she got home instead of waiting until Ryan had already left. But he doesn't want to fight with her, or stir things up or get into another round of, 'What's best for Ryan'.

Without enthusiasm he suggests to his wife, "Let's go check on Seth."

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Marissa can sense something is wrong.

He's painfully quiet.

Quiet even for Ryan.

He's still so new to her, like a pair of jeans that looked great in the store, but aren't really that comfortable or broken in yet.

Now that she has Ryan, she's not really sure what to do with him.

Luke was easy. He never shut up. In a way, she misses his mindless banter. It was a whole lot simpler to let Luke be in charge and just dictate their social life.

"Are you sure everything's ok?" she asks timidly.

Ryan reaches out for her arm, pulls her down on the couch with him, doesn't answer her question. Finally he offers, "You look great."

Marissa smiles self-consciously in reaction to the compliment but feels an inward slap of rejection. Something is obviously wrong with him. He never confides anything in her. Ryan practically knows her whole life story and she doesn't even know when his birthday is.

She arranges herself around him, molds into his body.

They cuddle into a comfortable heap.

He feels so right.

Luke never felt this right.

"I'm so glad you called," she says softly. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he returns the sentiment, kisses the back of her neck.

He smells a little like smoke and a lot like boy. She could never smell the real Luke. Too much damn cologne. Ryan wears just enough.

He yawns and she turns into him, kisses him, let's her tongue explore his mouth, feels him returning the gesture. She nudges his hand near her breast.

She wants this, she wants it so bad.

With Luke, sex was something she more or less tried to avoid. But with Ryan, God with Ryan she wants it so bad that sometimes it hurts to be this close to him and wonder why he won't try more than he does. Is it her? Is she missing something that his old girlfriends had? He must have had girlfriends in Chino.

Ryan cups her breast and then suddenly backs off, breaks the kiss. "Is there, uh, something you want to watch?" he asks clumsily.

Marissa fakes a smile, laughs awkwardly, "Yeah, sure, anything you want."

Ryan grabs for the remote, flips through the channels, throwing her glances here and there, waiting for her to decide on something.

He yawns again.

She tells him to stop at MTV. Why not?

Marissa excuses herself to get a drink. When she comes back to the couch, Ryan's eyes are closed and she notices for the first time tonight how very tired he looks.

She stands there for a minute, unsure of what to do.

Ryan opens his eyes and smiles up at her.

But not really a smile.

He looks sad she realizes.

Ryan looks like he did that night that she and Seth left him all by himself at Kirsten's model home. He looks alone and lost and unsure and pretending to be none of those things.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Marissa asks one last time.

"Come here," he pulls her down to him, manages to once again skirt the question, resumes his protective hold on her.

He always makes her feel so safe.

After a few minutes she can feel Ryan's breathing even out, can tell that he's fallen asleep. When she tries to get up, he reflexively tightens his grip around her.

"Stay," he mutters.

And she does.

She doesn't want to be anywhere else.

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Seth takes a deep breath, blows it out and tries to bargain with his body. Something's wrong with his stomach. He knows it. But denial is such a happy little distraction from real life and he's so fucking tired and worn out that he really could care less.

Doctor said keep an eye out for sharp pains. But he doesn't have sharp pains, just a constant dull ache and a feeling that he drank most of the Pacific Ocean.

No wonder Mom is always bitching about bloating.

Seth hears his parents coming up the stairs and rolls over.

To hell with them.

Let them track down Ryan and play concerned parents. He still can't believe they let the guy walk out in a huff. His ass would be so grounded. But not Ryan. He'll come back tonight and mumble a pitiful 'sorry' and look all depressed and repentant and be back in his pool house as if nothing happened.

It's not fair.

But wait... that's not really the point.

Ryan is screwed up.

Yeah, don't forget about that, Seth reminds himself.

Don't lose focus. Have to concentrate and figure out what's up with Ryan.

Seth hears his door creak open.

He pretends to sleep when his mom softly calls his name.

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Marissa opens her eyes. The apartment is quiet. The TV is flickering weird shadows on the dark walls.

What time is it? She must have fallen asleep along with Ryan.

Ryan.

He said he had to be home by twelve.

She glances at the clock on the cable box.

11:43.

She knows she should wake him up, but he feels so good lying next to her, so warm.

So unguarded.

So hers.

Marissa closes her eyes again and wills herself back to sleep.

She doesn't want him to leave. She wants him to stay here, with her, holding her, choosing to be with her.

Besides, the Cohens are laid back.

They won't care.

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Sandy sits on the couch, his feet nestled on Kirsten's lap, and checks his watch again. He told Ryan to be home by midnight.

It's one-fifteen in the morning.

Sandy tries to decide if he's worried, or mad, or disappointed.

He rang Ryan's cell at 12:30 but no one answered.

"Do we have Jimmy's new number?" he asks Kirsten.

She nods, stands up and retrieves it from somewhere in the kitchen.

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The shrill ringing of the phone pierces Ryan's sleep. He sits up suddenly in a daze, accidentally knocking an equally confused Marissa off the couch.

Ryan stumbles over Marissa's body to get into a standing position. He reaches out a hand to help her up.

"Sorry," he stammers, scratches the top of his head, squints at the light reflecting from the television and asks, "What time is it?"

"I'm not sure," Marissa splutters, smoothes at her discombobulated clothes.

The phone rings a valiant fourth time and then gives abruptly up, intercepted by Jimmy Cooper's recorded voice requesting that the caller leave a name and number.

"Oh shit," Ryan whispers when he realizes that Sandy is questioning the answering machine as to his whereabouts.

"Sorry," Marissa apologizes, tells him. "I fell asleep too."

Ryan pats his jeans pocket for his cell phone. He shut it off earlier, intending to tune out every living person with the exception of Marissa. He returns Sandy's call, grimaces when a brisk, "Ryan? What's going on? We were expecting you at midnight," is the first thing he hears.

"I overslept," Ryan works at sounding unaffected. "We're leaving now."

"No," Sandy instructs him, "I don't want you kids on the streets this late. I'm coming to get you."

Ryan starts to argue but Sandy raises his voice, competes with Ryan for the shortest sentence uttered in a single conversation. "Stay put."

Ryan snaps his phone shut and looks helplessly at Marissa. "I better wait outside" he says, and gives her one last kiss before exiting the apartment.

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Sandy pulls up to the complex, his headlights hitting Ryan in the face, causing the boy to shield his eyes from the unwelcome spotlight.

Ryan opens the car door, gets in without saying a word.

"I set a curfew tonight Ryan," Sandy says sternly. "Kirsten and I respected your wishes to go out despite the fact that we wanted you to stay home. In the future, I'd appreciate a little more responsibility on your part."

Ryan nods, looks out the window.

"You fell asleep, huh?" Sandy asks, changing his approach in an effort to get Ryan to talk.

"Yeah," Ryan answers softly.

"Do you feel alright?" Sandy inquires, reaching out a hand to Ryan's forehead. "You look wiped. Any sign of what Seth's got? Fever, sore neck, anything like that?"

"No," Ryan shakes his head, dislodging Sandy's hand. He scoots over a little more towards the window, a little farther away from Sandy.

Sandy stares at him, seemingly stunned at Ryan's unusual reaction. Ryan pretends he can't feel the burning gaze.

Sandy shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Kirsten said Ed Carden showed up today at the beach."

Ryan ignores the bait.

Sandy casts another line.

"And you left the house more than a little agitated," Sandy shrugs, "So..."

Ryan turns his head slightly in Sandy's direction but doesn't respond.

Sandy clears his throat, uses his free hand to gesture towards Ryan, "So...Seth has this idea that maybe something happened at the beach to upset you. And I want to remind you Ryan that Kirsten and I and Seth are here for you."

Sandy hits him slightly on the side of his arm with forced playfulness.

"Ok? Anything you want to talk about kid? Anything at all?"

"Can I have a car tomorrow?" Ryan asks quietly.

The impromptu question momentarily throws Sandy. "Um, sure, why?"

"The paternity test," Ryan answers quickly, keeping his head down. "I'm taking it tomorrow."

"Well I'll drive you," Sandy automatically proposes. "That isn't something I want you doing by yourself."

"Never mind," Ryan quickly reneges on his request and Sandy's offer.

"You don't want me to go with you Ryan?" Sandy asks.

The rejection in his voice reverberates around the quiet car.

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Ryan squeezes his fists together.

He can do this.

He did it earlier at the house.

He runs through a newly rehearsed checklist in his head.

The Cohens are covering for him, constantly paying for him, and cleaning up after him. Newport's not all that great. Harbor's rules are a pain in the ass. Seth's sick, his parents don't need the added hassle of his newest crisis on top of all of the other problems he's managed to create in the last few months.

They saved him when he needed it the most. It's time to so the right thing and return the favor.

The Cohens will never cut him lose.

Kirsten has her guilt, Sandy has his moral code, and Seth has his contrived dependence.

He'll do what they can't. Ryan has too much respect for the three of them not to.

What the fuck, the fantasy was good while it lasted.

Dismal as they are, he does have options. Maybe his mom finally has her act together. Maybe Ed Carden and wherever or whatever the hell Illinois is isn't all that awful. Maybe Trey will be out soon, and they can both get jobs and move in some place together.

Maybe Marissa won't hurt as badly as he will, when he leaves without telling her goodbye.

_This is right, this is right, this is right_...he mantras in his head, attempting to establish courage. Pretend Sandy's a cop or an asshole teacher or that dick of a social worker that tried to help out in the fifth grade and only caused Dawn to have a semi-nervous breakdown when she assumed that he was going to be taken away.

Fuckin' just do this Ryan, he urges himself.

You can do this.

"_Quit being such a little bitch."_

"You don't want me to come with you Ryan?" Sandy repeats a little slower.

Ryan squeezes his fists one last time, closes his eyes, and braces himself for impact.

"Ryan?"

"No," Ryan finally answers curtly. "It's my choice, right?"

"Absolutely kid. But I just think..."

Ryan cuts him off.

"Then I don't want you there."

It's been less than one day, and he's already broken the promise he made to Sandy in the pool house.

Ryan quietly repeats his lie.

"I don't want you there."

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To be continued................................


	22. Best of Intentions Chapter TwentyOne

**Author's Note:** Had some format trouble posting. Sorry if this author alerted twice.

Ok, so I suck. I lured everyone in with quick updates...and now....I'm so ashamed.

A few of you even e-mailed me to make sure I was alive. Thanks by the way.

I should be shunned, Amish style.

I'm not going to talk to myself for the rest of the night. I am going to self-shun.

Hi **crashcmb**. I actually posted, largely in part, due to your efforts. It is a wonder that you are still my beta.

This is the story that never ends......it just goes on and on my friends............

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Twenty-One

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Ed juggles several bottles of juice in one hand, his cell phone in another. When he enters the hotel room, he can immediately sense that something has shifted. The very air seems heavier. Carol sits on the bed, Josh beside her, staring out into space.

"Ed," Carol says softly, turns to face him, locks eyes with him, "Josh has something he'd like to ask you."

Ed approaches the bed, absently tosses the items in his hands on the mattress and squats down in front of Josh. His son doesn't acknowledge Ed's arrival, so he places a hand on the boy's thigh. Even this contact fails to command Josh's attention; his eyes remain focused on the balcony curtains.

"Josh?" Ed shifts his head to try and capture Josh's gaze.

Carol clears her throat. "Josh, talk to your father."

"Josh," Ed pushes, "Can you please just look at me son?"

Josh ignores his father's request, instead asking calmly, his voice level and specific and calculated, "Who's that boy, the one who keeps showing up? Why was he at the beach today?"

Josh turns toward his father, stares at him. "Why does that boy and that lady keep coming to see you... us?"

Ed drops his head. "God Josh, son, I don't know how to answer that question."

"It's ok Ed," Carol supports her brother with quiet encouragement, "Josh is smart, he already knows, he's already figured it out. He just needs you to say it."

Ed blows out a breath, looks up at the ceiling, struggles to hold back tears. "Josh, this isn't how I wanted to do this. This isn't how I wanted to tell you."

Josh waits in silence.

Ed whispers, "Ryan is my son."

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A loud rap on the pool house door immediately gets Ryan's attention. He lies on his bed, debating whether or not to feign hearing loss or sleep or iPod usage. In the end, he decides that no matter which Cohen is on the other side, he needs to answer the door and deal with it.

Expecting a still confused Sandy or a concerned Kirsten, Ryan is mildly surprised that the early morning visitor is a bathrobe and slippers-clad Seth.

He looks pale and tired.

Maybe one shade beyond pale, maybe a little too white.

Ryan's reminded of Thursday, when all of this began, when Seth was so sick.

Forgetting that he's supposed to be distancing himself from all things Cohen, Ryan reflexively asks, "What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be in bed Seth. You shouldn't be walking around outside."

Seth shrugs, sighs, waves a finger, "Yeah, about that whole lying in bed slash couch thing. I'm bored. I'm bored as hell Ryan. I'm bored of being bored. The mono is a major yawn. Let's do something."

"You're in pajamas Seth," Ryan reminds him.

"Well, yes. Admittedly my movements are somewhat restricted but I'm thinking, now that you're home, it's time for zombies. You pick the medium. DVD, Playstation, PC. Whatever." Seth stops, waits for Ryan to jump in. When he doesn't, Seth continues with, "Or maybe not even zombies. Ninjas. Ninjas are good."

Ryan rubs at his forehead.

"It's two in the morning Seth."

"Time has no meaning in the world of the infirmed Ryan."

Awkward silence.

Seth watches Ryan with barely contained anticipation. He can't compete with Ryan in a game of _Who Can Stay Quiet the Longest_ so he concedes without even trying, blurts out, "How's Marissa?"

"She's fine."

Seth nods as if he cares.

Again with the awkward silence.

"Well, that's good," Seth reasons, bobbing his head back and forth. "I mean, since her dad might be looking at ten to twenty and her mom's probably still trying to get her committed and she tried to swallow a medicine cabinet a month ago. Fine is good. Right?"

Seth cringes. Partly at his headache and partly at his stomach pain and partly at his throat but mostly at the wide, useless abyss that is his mouth. _Yes Seth, bring up the dysfunctional girlfriend 'cause that just worked out so well earlier tonight._

He tries to backpedal. "Um, I didn't mean any of that. I'm just amazingly under-amused right now and I'm really hoping that you can provide a dying man a sip of entertainment."

Ryan lets out a deep breath, leans on the pool house door and starts to close it.

"Go to bed Seth."

Seth takes a step forward, puts a foot in the entrance, a hand to his side.

"Did you tell Marissa I was sick? Did she care? Did she tell Summer? I bet she told Summer. I wonder if Summer cares?"

He continues his trademark processing tick; his dark curls bouncing back and forth. "No, she wouldn't care. Summer that is. Marissa might care. Did she care? Well maybe Summer might care a little bit."

Seth's hands join in on the fray, gesticulating in time with his head. "I mean, you know, we have had a connection going, a little heat of the moment lip action. I think that might merit mild concern. She might be mildly concerned."

He stares at Ryan. "What do you think? Mild concern? Too much to hope for?"

Ryan shifts his weight, impatient with Seth's determination not to leave him alone.

"I don't know Seth. We didn't talk about you."

"Oh. Well," the teen shrugs indifference, "I mean, why would you, right? So," he looks leadingly at Ryan, "What did you and Marissa do? Stayed out there pretty late, didn'tcha' big guy?"

Ryan closes the door a little more but Seth thwarts the effort, slides his way into the pool house.

"Yes, thanks. I'd love to come in."

Ryan drops his head, slides his jaw to one side, looks up through his bangs, asks an annoyed, "What do you want Seth?"

"Ah," Seth holds up a finger. "Loaded question, lots of answers. But for right now...I want some form of the walking dead and the pleasure of your company. Besides, I thought you were crashing in my room for a few days."

Ryan shifts his eyes to the floor, quietly tells Seth, "Yeah, um. I'm wiped so I'm gonna' stay here tonight."

"Look," Seth totters over to Ryan's bed, eases himself down to a sitting position. "If you're pissed about earlier tonight, I'm sorry about the whole Marissa and her screwed up life thing. It was a stupid thing to say and I'm sorry."

Seth watches Ryan for a reaction to his apology.

Ryan watches one of the pool house windows.

Seth adds another layer of icing to The Mighty Cohen Cake of Groveling.

"And I feel like a total fuck up because you're dealing with all this crap about a new family and my parents are acting like complete idiots and all I've managed to do is lay around and sleep and struggle to swallow pureed foods. So, what's going on with you man? Would you talk to me? I want to listen." He nods once in finality. "I do."

Ryan kicks at the carpet.

"You're freaking me out Ryan. Please, what happened today? Something weird is going on with you and I just want to help."

Ryan's eyes remain glued to the floor.

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Seth makes it so damn difficult to do anything.

He manages to wedge himself into places and situations that no one has bothered to before and it's as frustrating to Ryan as it is refreshingly welcome.

Ryan's never had a worshipping minion before. And that's what Seth is. Ryan knows it, Seth knows it. Hell, all of Newport probably knows it.

He's a lot of responsibility, Seth. He requires a formidable amount of care and maintenance.

Not that Seth hasn't come through for Ryan time and time again. If it wasn't for Seth, there's a very good chance Ryan wouldn't be living with the Cohens, or anyone else in the free world.

Seth came for him that day in juvie.

Not Kirsten, not Sandy.

Seth.

And Ryan knows it and he's so fucking grateful that he'd give his left arm to be able to express in words to Seth how much he appreciates him.

But that's not how he and Seth work.

It's a simple formula with them.

Seth equals words and Ryan, actions.

He stares at this kid, sitting on his bed, looking like absolute crap, watching, waiting for him to spend just a little time with him and Ryan remembers just how powerful a thing friendship and brotherhood is.

Trey would say "yes" or Trey would say, "no" or "get out of my face" all in the same breath.

The "no's" stung and the "yes's" sometimes had complicated consequences but the "get out of my face" moments, those sucked beyond sucking.

Trey would saunter out of the house; leave Ryan behind, sitting in his room.

Alone.

Unimportant.

Ryan sighs, digs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, and squeezes the sides of his skull.

And internally gives up his resolve to give up Seth.

At least for tonight.

He'll wait until tomorrow, when Seth is feeling better, to drop the ax on their friendship.

He does his best to sound completely disinterested, waves his hands in a 'whatever'. "Yeah. Zombies. Let's do it."

Seth springs up, instantly regrets it, bends over and lets out a soft, "Ow! Fuck." He steadies himself and makes an attempt to straighten up.

"Really? You're not too tired? Most satisfying. Ok, movie, game, what do you want to do? Name it."

Ryan winces at Seth's obvious discomfort.

Seth shouldn't be in this pool house in the middle of the night.

Hell, Seth shouldn't be mobile.

"Movie."

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Ed sits out on his balcony and smokes a cigarette.

He hasn't smoked in 17 years.

He'd give anything for a joint.

He closes his eyes and relives Josh's reaction to the news that Ryan is his son.

"I hate you." And tears and accusations and then, nothing.

Ed left the hotel room in silence.

Carol calls him on his cell phone, tells him that Josh has finally fallen asleep.

Things were dismal with Josh before California. Now, Ed wonders if his son will ever even talk to him again.

"Give him time Ed," Carol reads his thoughts. "He's in shock."

"I have to tell Brad, before Josh can get to him. God Carol, this is not how I pictured things. I wanted the boys to be happy about Ryan, to see what a miracle it is that he's in their lives."

"Josh is just a little boy Ed," Carol reminds her brother. "He sees things differently than you or me. He's gone from your oldest son to the middle one, from Brad's only brother to just another brother. It's going to be a bumpy ride before it can be a smooth one. You can't just want Josh to accept Ryan. You have to help him do it on his own terms."

"Thanks for tonight Carol," he tells her. "I'll call you in the morning, after I talk to Brad."

Ed flips his cell phone shut and lights up another cigarette.

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Seth walks and rambles, frenetically listing a dozen movie titles, stopping periodically to catch his breath and wipe his forehead.

Ryan listens and shuffles, pretends that the snail's pace he is using to keep up with Seth is completely normal.

"We should move the pool house closer," an out of breath Seth declares when the two of them finally reach the patio door.

"Yeah," Ryan sighs, "Listen, why don't you sit down. I'll grab the movie."

Seth plunks himself down at the breakfast bar, lays his arms on the counter and buries his head. "Uh-huh."

Ryan stares at him, waits for Seth to move.

"You should...ah. We should, um..." Ryan stalls. "Seth, we should go into the living room. When I said sit down, I meant...in the living room."

"Ok," Seth nods, dislodges a hand from his bathrobe pillow long enough to wave blindly at Ryan, "You go, I'll catch up."

Ryan finds a DVD, starts the movie, rearranges Seth's pillows and blankets on the couch.

Still no Seth.

He returns to the kitchen, places a hand on Seth's hunched shoulder.

"I'm rethinking the whole getting out of bed slash couch thing," Seth mumbles.

"I see that," Ryan commiserates.

Seth reminds Ryan of a stick of dynamite that's been burning furiously towards a fuse and then, suddenly, is dropped in water.

Extinguished with a fluff of trailing smoke.

"I still want to watch zombies. I still want to talk with you."

Seth allows himself to be assisted into the living room.

"We're still gonna' talk, right?"

He lies down, yawns, tries to find a comfortable position, and finally settles on his right side.

"Yeah," Ryan returns, although he doubts that Seth is still aware enough to acknowledge his answer.

Ryan waits a minute, then turns his attention towards the Cohens' bedroom.

He wishes he knew when Kirsten and Sandy had last checked on Seth.

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Unable to sleep, Sandy listens to the unbroken calm of his bedroom.

Out of control.

Things are out of control.

When did it happen?

When Seth got sick? When Ryan stood outside the house on Friday afternoon, staring at him with fear and apprehension? When Ryan called Ed, without telling him or Kirsten?

When Ed violated Sandy's easy trust, and entered his home without permission?

Sandy tries to specifically identify the exact moment that he completely lost control of the entire situation.

The child he drove home tonight isn't the same one that has been living in his home these past months.

Ryan's defenses are back up.

Sandy hears a gentle knock on the door. He pushes the light comforter off his legs, sits on the edge of the bed.

Another soft knock.

It has to be Ryan, Seth pounds.

Sandy eases the door open. Light from the hallway creeps in, causing Sandy to blink rapidly.

"Ryan?" Sandy bothers to ask, even though he already knows the identity of the knocker. "What's up kid?"

Ryan scratches the back of his head, looks around the empty hallway, then focuses on Sandy, managing to convey his message without actually making eye contact.

"Um...I think Seth.... might be sick...again."

"Let me grab my robe," Sandy quickly answers. He glances over at Kirsten and decides to let his exhausted wife sleep out this round. When he exits the bedroom, he turns to thank Ryan for getting him, but the teenager is already three-fourths of the way down the hall. Sandy heads for the kitchen first, retrieving the bottle of Motrin and the thermometer before going into the living room. Ryan has planted himself in front of the television, arms wrapped around his stomach.

Sandy sits down next to Seth and places a hand on his son's forehead.

"Shit," he mumbles under his breath, places the thermometer in Seth's ear.

"He was um," Ryan shifts his weight back and forth, "he came to the pool house."

"Seth was outside?" Sandy asks incredulously.

Ryan nods and the two men share a quick, knowing, patient glance.

"He's a danger to himself," Sandy shakes his head.

"Pretty much," Ryan agrees.

"Hey," Sandy roughly nudges Seth, "Nature boy, get up."

Seth reaches for Sandy's hand, shoves it off his shoulder.

"Nah-uh," Sandy admonishes, "Nope, sorry. Your temperature's back up. Let's go. You're taking some Motrin and then I'm chaining your sorry ass to your bed. And if you cooperate, then maybe I won't tell your mother about your little excursion. What were you thinking Seth, wandering around outside in the middle of the night?"

"I was thinking that I'm sixteen and not two," Seth mutters into his pillow.

"Well, at the moment my friend, you are two, 102 to be exact," Sandy states as he removes the thermometer from Seth's ear.

"Honestly Seth, you can't screw around with this thing. Walking around when you are this sick is dangerous. I want you in bed and I want you to stay there."

Seth nods, drinks the Motrin that Sandy places in his hand.

"I'm still not talking to you," Seth wearily informs his father.

"Uh-huh," Sandy responds.

"I'm still mad," Seth reminds Sandy, listing slowly into a full-fledged slump, his head resting on Sandy's shoulder.

"Right, mad, not talking to me, I'm writing it all down," Sandy confirms.

"And I'm gonna' sleep on the couch, 'cause Ryan and I are watching zombies."

"Ok," Sandy responds. "Sounds like you guys have quite the night planned." He gently eases his son back to his pillow.

Seth's done issuing demands, his eyes shut.

Sandy motions for Ryan to join him in the kitchen.

"Thanks for letting me know. We have to keep a close eye on that damn fever."

"I'll stay with him," Ryan says quietly.

"Thank you."

Sandy looks around, runs his fingers through his hair, and tries to break the tension between him and Ryan with casual chatter. "So, I can't believe Seth tonight. If Kirsten finds out he was running around, she's going to kick his ass. He's gonna' wish he was back in the hospital."

When Ryan remains silent, Sandy foregoes the useless banter and zeroes in on the real issue. "Look, Ryan, Kirsten and I set boundaries for you because we care about you. We weren't mad at you tonight; we're concerned about you. I never wanted tonight to end with a fight. I'm glad you're making a social life for yourself in Newport. I'm thrilled you and Marissa are pursuing a relationship, that you are starting to set down roots, a solid foundation. That's what Kirsten and I want for you, to have this house truly feel like your home. What happened tonight? Why are you so tense? I thought we decided to be honest with each other and talk about things instead of keeping clammed up. And you are keeping things from me Ryan. You haven't really spoken to me since this morning."

Ryan blinks, picks at the edge of the kitchen counter. "You don't want to hear what I have to say," he mutters.

"Yes, I do," Sandy moves closer to Ryan. "Yes I absolutely do Ryan. That's all I've ever asked of you, to talk to me, to let me know what's going on with you."

Ryan sneaks a glance at Sandy, backs up, reinstating the distance between himself and Sandy.

"You lied to me," Ryan accuses. "You told me that Kirsten's company had things settled...about the fire."

"They have," Sandy assures him, "More or less. I mean..." Sandy abruptly stops, stares at Ryan, his face registering his brain's attempt to catch up on the conversation. "Why are you bringing this up? Did Caleb talk to you? What did he say to you Ryan?"

"Nothing. Mr. Nichol never said anything to me."

Ryan walks over to the corner of the kitchen, retrieves the baby monitor, and holds it out to a confused Sandy. "Here. You might want to keep this with you."

Sandy stares at the monitor, cocks his head to the side with bewilderment as he looks back up at Ryan.

"I don't belong here." Ryan states with a shaking certainty. "I'll never be able to pay you and Kirsten back, for the fire or Harbor or anything. I'm calling my mom in the morning and if she's too f'd up to deal with me, which I'm sure she will be, then I'm going to go live with that guy. I'm his problem, not yours. You guys don't have to feel guilty. This guy is different than my mom. You don't have to feel bad about leaving me with him. He's fine, he'll make sure I stay in school." Ryan looks up at Sandy, his face displaying the smartass leer of juvie, "I'm sure he'll 'set boundaries'."

"Ryan," Sandy stares at him perplexed, "Where is this coming from? You aren't a problem that Kirsten and I are dealing with. We've gone over this a million times. You're a part of our family now. We want you here."

"Well," Ryan lowers his head, says softly, "maybe I don't want to be here. Maybe I don't want to spend the rest of my life being the charity case from Chino that you brought home to ease your guilt over selling out."

"Ryan," Sandy raises his voice, "What in the hell has gotten into you? Does Ed Carden have something to do with this? What did he say to you at the beach? Where the hell is this hostility coming from? You know you're not a charity case, you know that's not why I brought you to Newport. What's going on here Ryan?"

"I'll explain things to Seth in the morning," Ryan avoids Sandy's question, starts to exit the kitchen.

"Great," Sandy scoffs, "That's just great. And when you're done breaking the news to Seth, maybe you can explain things to me. 'Cause I sure in hell don't understand any of this."

Ryan stops walking, turns his head halfway, looks back at Sandy without looking up.

"Ryan," Sandy tries one more time to communicate with his foster son, "let me wake up Kirsten. Why don't the three of us just spend a little while talking, about Ed Carden and whatever happened today at the beach, and the fire, and whatever else has lead you to the point of standing in this kitchen, telling me that you're leaving this family."

Ryan clutches his fist, opening and closing it.

"Ryan, kid, we don't want you to leave our home."

"Good night," Ryan mutters, leaving Sandy alone in the kitchen, holding the baby monitor.

And Sandy realizes that he never really ever lost control of the situation, because he never had it to begin with.

It's always been Ryan in control.

Kirsten tried to warn him and he didn't hear her. _Ryan's almost a grown man, he does what he wants. The best you can do is listen to him and support him._

Before he goes back to bed, Sandy walks upstairs, retrieves Ryan's bedding from Seth's bedroom floor, walks into the living room.

Ryan is sitting on the floor, his head on his knees.

"Ryan," Sandy says softly, "Is this what you really want? To leave us? Go live with Ed Carden? This is what you want?"

"Yes," Ryan answers, his voice breaking. He raises his head but looks in the opposite direction of his foster father.

Confounded that Ryan's words don't match his emotions, Sandy stands in the dark, struggling to make sense of it all. He glances at the movie playing on the television. Ryan has it muted and without the sound, the strange image captures Sandy's attention. A guy walks in hospital scrubs, all alone, along the abandoned streets of London, clutching a plastic bag.

Sandy hands the pillow and blanket to Ryan, lays a hand on the boy's shoulder, gives him a squeeze, doesn't try to hide the disappointment or sadness from his voice, "If you decide to talk to me Ryan, I'll be awake. Enjoy your movie."

He knows Ryan won't come to him.

But it's so important, with Ryan, to always make the offer, to always remind the teenager that someone cares enough to care.

Sandy walks to his bedroom and closes the door.

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To be continued....................

On a good news note, the -------------------are back!


	23. Best of Intentions Chapter TwentyTwo

The author is currently hanging her head in shame

Thanks to **crashcmb** the wonderbeta, apologies to everyone else, and double thanks for reading.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Twenty-Two

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**Sunday**

Ryan gets up early, hoping to avoid a Cohen.

Any Cohen.

All Cohens.

But in the kitchen, Sandy sits eating a bagel and Kirsten hugging a cup of coffee, her hair in a haphazard ponytail. She looks up at him as he enters the kitchen and he wonders if she has been crying, her eyes are puffy and red.

"Good morning," she says softly.

Ryan half-nods, sneaks several uneasy glances at them.

Sandy clears his throat. "I told Kirsten, about our talk last night Ryan. And it took my brilliant wife all of about thirty seconds to figure out that you may have handed me the baby monitor as a big honkin' clue that you overheard our conversation concerning…"

"The model home fire," Ryan finishes the sentence, becomes completely still for a second, and then resumes reaching for a coffee cup.

"Yes," Sandy acknowledges Ryan's correct response. "Thank you for being honest about that, although I would have appreciated a little more straightforwardness last night."

"I wasn't trying to eavesdrop," Ryan sets down his mug. "It was an accident."

"So was the fire Ryan," Kirsten stares into her coffee. "I'm not sure what you heard, but had you been privy to the entire conversation, you would know that I have never blamed you for that fire."

Kirsten raises her head, looks earnestly at the teenager.

"You were attacked in that house. It's a miracle you weren't hurt worse or killed. I will not allow my father to treat you like a common criminal, offer you up like a sacrificial lamb to the insurance company. I will not expose you to that Ryan. If my father's current temper tantrum has anything to do with you feeling like you need to move out of this house, I am begging you to sit down and talk to us about this." She pauses, looks up at him, her eyes pleading. "Please don't hold me responsible for my father's actions."

Ryan stands speechless, blinking. God, how can the Cohens be so different than anyone else he's ever met? Why can't they be normal people? Respond to his anger with anger. Why can't they just fall back when he tries to push them out of the way? Why does everything have to be so complicated with them?

He burnt down her very expensive, very important house and yet Kirsten is the one crying, asking him for forgiveness?

"Um, I just, I didn't realize that you were still trying to pay for the fire. I didn't know that your insurance company was harassing you. If Mr. Nichol wants me to talk to them, I should."

"Is that the real issue?" Sandy pivots in his chair, stares straight at Ryan, "That doesn't explain your hostility last night. Who are you mad at Ryan? Me, Kirsten, Caleb, Dawn, Ed…yourself?"

Ryan gives up on the coffee, puts his empty cup down.

"I should get going."

"Where?" Sandy asks, exasperated. "The paternity clinic isn't open for hours. Where do you need to go Ryan? Or do you need to just go, because leaving is a whole lot easier than staying and talking?"

Ryan hesitates to retrieve the Rover keys from off the counter. It doesn't feel right, taking the Cohens' car. Not when things are so strained, not when he feels himself already drifting away from this family.

"Go," Sandy waves his hand in disgust, "take off. What's the use of sticking around if you never intend to let your guard down long enough to ever really allow Kirsten and me to help you?"

Sandy stops talking, sighs.

"I'm tired Ryan. I'm worn out. You win. I give up trying to figure out what I'm doing wrong or what you need or what this family can do to support you. Either sit down and talk to us right now or just get out."

"Sandy," Kirsten says sharply.

"What?" Sandy holds out his hands. "Am I the bad guy because I'm at least willing to say what's on everybody's minds? Are you going to sit there and try and deny that Ryan's constant and complete lack of meaningful disclosure isn't frustrating? He's fine one minute, he's shut down the next, he never talks to us, he never let's us in. He tells me last night he doesn't want to live here, yet he won't look me in the face or provide us with a reasonable explanation?"

Ryan grabs the keys.

Out.

The room is closing in; he can feel it getting more and more difficult to breathe. He needs out, to get away, to go to a place where he doesn't have to hear them, listen to them, hurt them anymore.

Explain something to them that they should already realize.

"Ryan, honey, please don't leave yet," Kirsten stands up, advances towards him. "Just tell us what happened yesterday to make you go to such an extreme that you're telling Sandy you want to stop living here."

"I...I can't," Ryan stammers.

"You can't or you won't?" Sandy asks, his voice borderline hostile, fed up.

"I tried telling you, but you just won't listen," Ryan backs away. "Every time I try telling you, you talk me out of it."

"Talk you out of what?" Sandy asksfrustrated."Ryan. I am not a mind reader."

"I told you," Ryan points to Kirsten, backs off a little more. "I already told both of you."

"Told us what?" Sandy puts his hand to his head. "Please, just spell it out for us Ryan. Just assume for one minute that we are completely ignorant of your mind's inner workings."

"He doesn't know where he belongs," Kirsten says softly, then louder, with more confidence, "He already told me once, he never knows for sure where he belongs."

Ryan drops his head, silent.

"Ryan, is that right?" she probes gently, adds sadly, "That's what you keep telling us isn't it, in different ways. You're still wondering, aren't you?"

He puts his left hand over his eye, grinds at with his palm.

"You belong here, with us." Sandy says the statement with such bewildered bluntness that, for a second, Ryan forgets why he ever even doubted the issue.

"I can't do anything else," Sandy says quietly, "to convince you that you belong here. What else can I possibly do kid?"

"Nothing," Ryan whispers. "This isn't…you guys aren't…."

He gives up on the sentence, shakes his head.

"Stay and eat breakfast with us," Kirsten tells him, the pleading tone in her voice eating at his heart. "You don't need to leave. This is your home as long as you want it to be. And if that means just until you and Ed Carden or your mom make other arrangements or if that means until you and Seth leave for college, it doesn't matter. Just please stay for right now."

She holds a hand out for him and Ryan feels his resolve melt away.

Why can't they just get mad at him, get tired of him, kick him out?

Let him go.

He follows her back into the kitchen, watches as Sandy reaches for a frying pan, takes the eggs and milk out of the refrigerator.

"Why don't you make the bacon," Kirsten suggests, pushes a wisp of hair out of her eyes, smiles a cheerless smile at him.

Ryan nods, awkwardly shares the cooking space with Sandy.

"I'll go check on Seth," Kirsten tells them.

When she returns, the three of them eat at the table in silence.

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"Brad," Ed gently shakes his son's shoulder, "wake up son, I need to talk to you."

Brad yawns, stretches. "Tired," he mumbles, wraps his arms around Ed, snuggles in close. "I love you Dad."

Ed takes a deep breath.

This is so hard, waking up your child, to tell them about your past.

Your past should be your own. Your children are never supposed to know about events that preceded them. Sins of your youth are supposed to be kept quietly in the closet. Drug use, sex, parties…affairs with married women. Your children aren't supposed to gain access to that information, to that part of your life.

"Brad, it's morning son, you need to get up. I want to take you to breakfast."

The little boy eventually gives in to the inevitable, separates himself from his father. Ed kisses his son on the top of his head as the kid climbs out of bed. Brad is all that is keeping him going. If this son shuts him out after the news about Ryan, Ed can't imagine what life will be like. He was convinced that his boys would be excited about a new brother. But after Josh's reaction last night, Ed's terrified he'll lose them both.

"Just the two of us?" Brad asks excitedly as they leave the hotel room.

"Yeah," Ed fakes a casual grin. "Doesn't that sound like fun? Just you and me? Remember, we used to do this all the time when you were little and we would drop Josh off at school?"

"Mom had to go to work early."

"Yes," Ed answers.

"I remember. I always got pancakes."

"Yes," Ed repeats. "With lots of maple syrup."

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The paternity test was easier than he thought it would be.

Just a little blood, less than a tablespoon, the pamphlet promised.

The attendant tells him that the results should be back by tomorrow afternoon.

Ryan walks to the Rover unsure of his next destination. It's a beautiful Sunday morning. He thinks about Seth, stuck at home in bed. He should go back to the Cohens' and hang out with him. But that would be sending mixed signals and he's caused his foster family enough grief and confusion. He needs to talk to Seth, explain things to him, but he's drained, void of feelings. And besides, he doesn't think he can bare going back to the house and watching Kirsten watching him.

Avoiding Sandy while Sandy avoids him.

He doesn't know where to go, what to do. Marissa is a possibility, but he's trying to cut her loose. Seeing her is only going to make leaving harder.

He glances at his cell phone.

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In the rental car, Brad is chattering away, planning out the day's itinerary. It's no surprise that every event involves the beach.

Ed nixes the paragliding.

His phone rings and Ed does a double take as he realizes what number is flashing.

"Ryan?" he asks tentatively. "Good morning. I wasn't expecting to hear from you. This is a wonderful surprise." Ed glances at Brad to see if the boy is paying attention. He is, staring intently at his father.

"Is that Ryan? Cool. Ask him if he'll take me paragliding."

"Put on your headphones a minute," Ed tells Brad. "I need some privacy."

Brad shrugs and complies. He's used to the request.

"I just did the paternity test," Ryan says, his voice flat.

"Already? Wow, great. That's just so… great." Ed stammers, astonished. "I really appreciate it Ryan. I honestly thought maybe you wouldn't go through with it."

Ed waits for a response but doesn't get one. Still though, Ryan is hanging on the line, almost as if he is waiting for Ed to continue the conversation. On a whim Ed asks, "What are you doing right now? Do you have to go back to the Cohens' right away?"

"No," the teenager answers, becomes silent again.

"Well, um," Ed struggles to form a sentence that won't scare Ryan off. He's thrilled the kid has stayed on the line as long as he has. "Brad and I are actually on our way to breakfast. Would you like to join us? I'm…telling Brad…about things."

A pause before Ryan asks, "I thought you wanted to wait until the test results came back?"

"Well," Ed grimaces, "Josh kind of guessed last night, and that moves up my timeline for Brad. I want to tell Brad myself. He seems to adore you Ryan. I would be honored if you would join us. I think, no I know, that Brad would take the news better if you were there. It would be better for Brad…if you were with him."

Ed can sense Ryan's uncertainty, but he's on to this kid.

Loyalty.

The kid's got it in spades and no amount of introversion can hide it. It was the first thing he picked up on about Ryan. Ryan will say yes, because he knows deep down that Brad is his brother. And Ed is sure that Ryan is loyal to brothers, flesh and blood, foster and friend.

"I need to make sure it's ok with Sandy and Kirsten."

"Absolutely Ryan," Ed agrees, although privately, at this point, he couldn't give a damn about Sandy Cohen's feelings on any matter.

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Sandy hangs up the phone.

Kirsten has been in the kitchen the entire time, listening, waiting patiently for the full story.

"Is Ryan ok?"

"Yes," Sandy nods, "he's done with the paternity test. He uh, called to get permission to stay out longer. He's going to join Ed Carden and one of his sons for breakfast; maybe it's lunch for Ryan, I don't know. Ryan called Carden, he made a point to let me know that Carden didn't contact him." Sandy pauses and looks intently at his wife, bewildered, "I don't understand what he's doing Kirsten. It's like he's forcing himself away from us for no reason. I barely recognize this kid. It's like he's back to being a complete stranger."

"Which son is it?" Kirsten asks anxiously.

"I'm not sure," Sandy shrugs wearily. "I don't care. Does it matter?"

"Yeah," Kirsten heads out of the kitchen. "It does."

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They meet at an IHOP. It's crowded, but Brad is insistent on pancakes and Ed can't think of any other restaurant that has a chocolate chip smiley face pancake on their menu.

Ryan pulls up and Ed waves to get his attention. He watches as the teenager climbs out of the SUV, still awestruck by the fact that this person is on the Earth as a result of his actions. The kid is so handsome and Ed is struck by a fleeting sense of pride that is quickly replaced by the aching sense of loss that has plagued him since Dawn first came clean about Ryan's existence.

This child is already a man.

"Ryan!" Brad shouts. "Pancakes!"

Ryan scratches his head, glances nervously at Ed.

"Come on," Brad grabs at Ryan's hand. "You can sit with me."

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They order taking polite turns.

"I already ate," Ryan tells the waitress shyly, asking only for a Coke.

When she leaves, Ed starts the uncomfortable conversation.

"Brad, I have something to tell you."

The little boy looks up from his children's menu, flicking a red crayon between his fingers.

"Maybe we should we do this somewhere else," Ryan suggests.

_What is it with this guy and restaurants?_

Brad looks back and forth between the two men.

"This is fine," Ed assures Ryan. "This is a good enough place as any."

"What's up?" Brad asks.

Ed purses his lips together, sits up a little higher.

"Brad, a long time ago, way before I met your mother, I knew Ryan's mother."

Brad stares at Ed, continues to flick the crayon. The mention of his dead mother, in public, in front of someone other than his brother or Aunt Carol has the little boy uneasy.

"And, Ryan's mother and I had a very special relationship."

Brad casts an apprehensive glance at Ryan. The older boy's head is down so Brad shifts his attention back to his father.

"Uh-huh."

"And I met with Ryan's mother few days ago, because we used to be such good friends, and I wanted to see how she was."

Brad puts down his crayon, watches his father carefully, turns to Ryan.

"Which mom? 'Cause don't you have two?"

"Um," Ryan grimaces, "The one you haven't met yet. Kirsten really isn't my mom, remember? He's talking about my real mom. Her name is Dawn."

"Like the sun?" Brad asks.

Ryan almost chokes on his coke.

First time anyone has ever made that comparison.

"Yes," he answers Brad, "Like the sun."

Ed uses the newinformation to his advantage. "Yes, Dawn. So I visited Dawn and she told me some special news. Surprise news, Brad. A surprise to Ryan and me and now I need to tell you."

Setting a new world's record for incredibly bad timing, the waitress interrupts to tell them their order will be a bit delayed. Ed assures her it's fine, dismisses her as quickly as possible.

Brad is waiting patiently, staring at his father. Ryan looks up through his bangs, locks eyes with Ed.

"And," Ed tears his eyes away from Ryan, directs them back to Brad, "the surprise is that Ryan is my son."

Brad doesn't react to the news. Instead he tilts his head, states a confused, "I don't get it."

Ryan drops his head a little further.

Ed fumbles, trying to start another sentence but Brad beats him to it.

"John Montgomery, this kid in my class, has an older brother who has a different mother cause John's dad got a divorce, but now they all live together with John's father and mother and John's brother's mother sends him money but never sees him. John told me once that she didn't want his older brother but since John's dad is his older brother's father, it's ok that he lives with them. Is that what you are talking about?"

Ed lets out a deep breath. "Uh…well, um Brad, I think…you're on the right track."

"Yes," Ryan speaks up, turns to Brad. "But my mother and your dad were never married."

"Then how can you have a baby?"

Ryan's jaw drops slightly, the tips of his ears turning bright red. He raises his eyebrows, stares open mouthed at Brad. What in the hell was he thinking, coming to this breakfast? He's in so fucking far over his head it's not even funny.

"Brad," Ed leans over the table, "Son, you don't have to be married to have a baby."

"Really?" Brad asks. He seems truly amazed by the revelation.

"Yes," Ed nods. "Really."

"Did you know that?" Brad innocently asks Ryan.

Still in a stupor, Ryan mindlessly nods his head up and down.

"Huh," Brad summarizes. "So, you're my brother Ryan 'cause my dad is your dad?"

"Yes," Ryan answers softly.

"So how many dads do you have?" Brad continues to question Ryan. "Do you still have the one in jail?"

Ryan cringes, "Yes."

"This is a little bit confusing," Brad leans back.

"Tell me about it," Ryan agrees.

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To be continued…..

Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to get off my ass and continue with this story.


	24. Best of Intentions Chapter TwentyThree

Still hanging head in shame.

**Author's note:** Thanks so much for sticking with the story. I need a few more building chapters before the big KABOOM. But it's coming, I promise.

In honor of Mardi Gras, I am declaring **crashcmb** the good luck baby in my king cake.

Have a little shout-out this chapter to the pilot. See if you can find it.

As always, thanks so much for reading and of course for the constant feedback. I'm continually amazed at the support.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Best of Intentions

Chapter Twenty-Three

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Outside the restaurant, Brad tells him, "Your black eye still looks cool. Oh, and hey, I drew you a picture, but it's at the hotel."

"That's uh, that's great," Ryan answers, unsure of the precise etiquette involved in accepting such a gift.

This kid is so forward, so accepting of him.

Brad shares more with Seth than just his energy level.

"Does your eye hurt anymore?"

"No," Ryan shakes his head, retrieves his keys from his pocket.

The Breakfast From Hell is over.

It's time to either slink back to the Cohens' or find somewhere else to waste time.

Glancing at Ryan's car keys, Brad inquires, "Can I come with you?"

"What?" Ryan asks, taken aback, then rebounds and answers, "uh, I don't think your dad would like that."

Brad quickly dismisses Ryan's objection, "He won't care."

He scurries off to ask Ed's permission but turns around, motions for Ryan to lean down, whispers, "Please, can I go with you? All my dad and Josh do is fight. If I go back with my dad, I'll just sit in the hotel room and watch TV and listen to him and Josh yell at each other. You're more fun than Aunt Carol anyway. I'll be good. I'll stop talking. I'll be really quiet. Please, let me come with you."

_He used to hide in the neighbor's back yard, underneath their rotting deck, knees pressed against his chest, in the smallest ball he could manage, before he had his bike, before he understood the difference between when he should run and when it was ok to stick around but hole up in his room. "Just let me stay," he had pleaded to Mrs. Kelling the first time she found him, her flashlight's beam blinding him._

_"I won't bother you."_

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When Ryan calls next, Kirsten answers the phone.

"How's Seth?"

"He's sleeping a lot, but thankfully no more fever. His uh, stomach is giving him a little trouble. The doctor said it should be fine unless the pain becomes sharp. But he's miserable Ryan. He's disappointed that you're not here. I don't think I'm an acceptable replacement."

Ryan doesn't really respond to her comment and Kirsten's not sure how to progress the conversation tactfully. Finally she just comes right out and asks, "How did things go, at breakfast?"

"Um, he told…his kid…about me."

"Brad?" Kirsten inquires. She knows already it had to have been the younger one. She doubts the older boy would go anywhere near Ryan.

"Yes."

"Did you know that Ed was going to tell him in front of you?"

"Yeah," Ryan confirms. "Uh, I was wondering, if it isn't too much of a problem, I mean, I know that Seth is sick, but I, uh…"

"What is it Ryan?"

Kirsten hears a couple of deep breaths before a quiet, "I thought that maybe Sandy, maybe he would like to meet Brad."

Kirsten rubs her temples. Oh great. This is just what her husband needs.

"I don't know Ryan, Sandy is still a little upset from this morning."

"I could bring him there…to your house."

_There…to your house. _

_Your house. _

The sentence makes Kirsten's skin crawl. Last week, Ryan had promised her he would be home early after his soccer game.

Last week this place was Ryan's home.

Today…it's suddenly Kirsten's house.

Her worst fears are coming true.

He's leaving them a little at a time.

"Is Ed coming?"

"No," Ryan answers. "He's ah, he said he needs to go back to the hotel. But um, Brad wants to hang out with me and um, the guy said it's cool as long as I call him once an hour. I don't know where else to go and uh, I really don't want to lose him again. If I bring him to you guys, he'll be safe."

Kirsten relents.

"Of course you can bring Brad home Ryan,"

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Sandy waxes his surfboard on the driveway, waits for the Rover to pull up. The waxing motion is calming, always has been. Helps him gather his thoughts, organize his needs, plan his day, prioritize his pressures.

He should be happy. Ryan is coming home. He had expected the teenager to fabricate reasons to stay out all day.

"Ryan's bringing the kid?" he had asked Kirsten a half hour ago, amazed. "Here?"

Kirsten had nodded.

"This just keeps getting stranger and stranger."

Kirsten agreed, giving him a squeeze on his arm as she left the kitchen, left him alone to his thoughts.

Now here, in the driveway with the midmorning sun blazing down, Sandy wipes sweat from his brow as he lifts up his surfboard and starts to haul it into the garage.

The Rover pulls up, barely comes to a complete stop before the passenger door swings open and a moppet emerges.

"Oh my God, that is the coolest surfboard ever. Can I touch it? Can you teach me how to surf? I really want to learn how to surf. I can teach you how to skateboard; I'm really good at it. I barely wipe out anymore."

Sandy raises his eyebrows, scratches the back of his left ear, balances his surfboard on the driveway, holds out his free hand to answer, gives up, looks helplessly at Ryan.

"Um," Ryan suppresses an amused smirk, "Uh, Sandy, this is Brad." Ryan points back and forth between the two, "Brad, this is Sandy."

Brad holds out a hand, shakes Sandy's free one.

"Nice to meet you," Brad says casually, never taking his eyes off the surfboard.

"Likewise," Sandy returns the sentiment. "Listen, why don't we hold off on the surfing until you say hi to Kirsten and Seth, maybe see the inside of the house?"

"Ok," Brad shrugs, peeks around Sandy at the front door. "Who's Seth?"

"Seth is my son," Sandy answers.

Brad turns around and asks Ryan, "Is that another brother?"

Ryan throws a quick glance in Sandy's direction. "Um."

"Yes," Sandy jumps in, answering for Ryan.

"So does that make him my other new brother?" Brad asks, gingerly running a hand on Sandy's surfboard.

"Sure, why not," Ryan mumbles, blows a hopeless breath of air through his bangs.

Sandy picks his board back up, says, "Brad, follow me, I'll bet the bank you're a green Popsicle man."

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Seth hears a foreign sound in the house and unlocks an eye to investigate. He'd like to pry his mouth open as well, but it feels like someone lacquered on three layers of rubber cement.

There's the sound again. High pitched. Prepubescent.

His throat still hurts, headache is back, spleen still wants more room than his stomach can provide. He's been run over by The mono-driven Wagon Of Paralyzing Misery.

He spends a few minutes drifting in and out before his brain fires fully awake.

He can make out the clatter of a simulated car screeching to a stop. A few whoops of triumph from the phantom squeaky voice.

Playstation.

"Ryan?" Seth asks, confused, grimacing at the taste of the sticky muck still cementing the corners of his lips.

Maybe his ears are broken along with his stomach, esophagus and most major inner organs, because he's hearing the laughter of a child and they don't have a kid, at least not one that anyone has bothered to tell him about. Then again, after this weekend, who knows what they hell is going on in his house.

"Yeah?" Ryan appears beside him.

Seth squints up, requests in one pitiful syllable, "Drink?"

Ryan disappears from eyeshot only to be replaced with a smaller version of himself; head leaned over, staring at Seth.

Seth blinks, opens both eyes and stares back.

His fever must be back.

His mind is fabricating a midget Ryan.

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In his hotel room, Ed is doing his best to contain his growing frustration-induced anger.

Josh is doing his best impersonation of a stone wall.

For the fifth or sixth time Ed advises his son, "Josh, we need to talk about this. It's not going to go away. We need to talk about Ryan and what impact he's going to have on our family."

When Josh doesn't answer for yet another time, Ed makes a calculated risk and adds, "Brad is handling it, coping with the news, and he's what, almost two years younger than you? Is this how you want to be remembered as having dealt with this crisis Josh? Letting your little brother step up to the plate, while you sit pouting in the dugout?"

Bingo.

Button successfully pushed.

Josh springs off his chair, shouts at his father, "Shut up!"

"No," Ed firmly snaps, returns Josh's cold stare. "And if that's all you have to say, then you might as well keep your own mouth shut, 'cause I've had just about enough Josh. I am sorry that your mother is dead and I'm sorry that you hate everyone, but I've allowed your sour mood to taint this family for long enough. Why do you think Brad's not here right now? Have you even noticed that your little brother is gone Josh? He doesn't want to be near us. Your brother choose a boy he's just met over having to come back to this hotel because he's tired of listening to us fight, and tired of listening to the silence in-between, and tired of putting his life on hold every time you or I want to have a meltdown because your mother is dead."

Ed stands up, paces back and forth, collects his thoughts. Tries to combine parenting with empathy. His boy is hurting but something has to give. For six months he's catered to his son's resentment hoping Josh would come around, eventually return to his old self. But things have just gradually gotten worse and it's past time to address it head-on.

"Well I'm done, Josh. Things are changing starting right now. We'll go to counseling, the two of us, figure out a way to live together without your mother. But what we are doing now isn't working and we can't keep going on like this. It's not fair to anyone, you, Brad or me. Ryan is real. He's a part of our family. If you don't start, right now, to rebuild your relationship with Brad, your little brother is going to give up on you and find a big brother he can count on. You're not the only player in town anymore Josh. You have to stop taking your brother's love and forgiveness for granted. So you decide what you want to do. I don't blame you for being mad at me about Ryan. I know you're angry. I acted irresponsibly and now you have to share in the consequences. But I will not apologize for wanting to get to know Ryan and wanting him to get to know you boys. I'm expecting a lot from you Josh and I know that you're still a little boy and that these past six months are something no child should have to go through. But I can't take any of it away Josh, I can only try and help you cope with it. You just need to let me help you. Let me in Josh, and things will seem so much better."

Ed stares at his son, willing some reaction. But the kid just stands there, arms crossed, head down, eyes shooting daggers, shorts puffs of breath through his nose.

"_Ryan, do you have any questions?"_

Well, at least if Josh and Ryan ever fight, Brad won't have to worry about listening to any arguing.

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Seth sits complacently next to Ryan on the couch, sipping his drink, rubbing his stomach, watching miniature Ryan complain vehemently at the video game.

"X-O," Seth mutters, "Try X-O, it's an unbeatable combination."

He points at the little boy, asks Ryan, "It that real?"

"Yes," Ryan nods, "yes it is, he is…real. His um, name is Brad."

"Holy mirror image Batman," Seth raises his eyebrows. "That explains your confidence pre-paternity test."

"Yes it does."

"So I'm guessing the restraining order is on permanent hold?"

Ryan sighs, "Yep."

"And you took the paternity test?"

"Yes."

Seth finishes his drink, puts the cap back on the bottle, swishes what's left of the liquid back and forth against the sides of the bottle. He sits mesmerized for a moment before asking Ryan, "This is going to change things for us, isn't it?"

Ryan drops his head, says softly, "I think so, yeah."

"Well, it's weird, having the instamatic family and all, but hey, it's not like you're leaving or anything, right?"

Ryan looks in the opposite direction of Seth, keeps his head down.

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_Right before his father was arrested, his mom was always shouting, telling his dad to get out of the house. Leave. And then one day, she didn't have to ask 'cause the cops had taken care of things for her._

_Then she cried, because she wanted him back._

_Trey got older and angrier and eventually Dawn told him, "Get out Trey, if you hate it here so bad, if I'm such a monster, why don't you just get the hell out."_

_And Trey did, and she cried, because he was gone._

_People left in a hurry, in a flurry, furious, yelling, throwing things or punches, screaming, "fuck you" as the front door slammed shut._

That was all he knew, tornado emotions, reactionary regrets.

The Cohens are so different than his family. He and Trey never sat down and talked about it, never discussed civilly when Trey would stop being a part of his life. His dad never warned him that he would be leaving. Ryan never had a chance to ask questions, like Seth is able to, sitting with him now.

The Atwood method of saying goodbye is easier, its immediate sting less painful, even if in the long run it hurts more, rips out a piece of your soul that you'll spend the rest of your life looking for.

Ryan turns his head away from Seth and his agonizing questions.

Seth, his new brother, friendship forged from mutual need and instant understanding.

It's not fair.

He left Chino behind but his shitty fate has found him, crawled its way down the interweaving freeways to Newport Beach and his new life.

He reminds himself that staying with the Cohens is no longer a valid option. He has to leave; he's cost this family enough grief and money. He's only with them because of a lack of options.

He has an alternative now.

The Cohens have an alternative.

Funny, he felt so sure, last night in the shower, that it was time to leave Newport.

Now, his reasoning is blurry. The Cohens hadn't really gotten mad at him last night. They didn't kick him out this morning. They didn't buy into his anger and throw fuel on it and allow it to drive their own emotions.

Instead, they had remained relatively calm and made him breakfast and once again invited him to remain in their home.

"Ryan," Seth softly repeats his name, "Are you actually thinking about leaving?"

He wants to stay.

It would be so easy, to just open his mouth and tell Seth he wants to stay.

"Ryan," Brad calls for him, holds out the controller, "How do I get out of this building? Can you come show me? I think I'm lost."

He has a chance, with this kid, to be what Trey couldn't.

Maybe he owes Ed Carden a chance to be what his parents wouldn't.

He stands up to help Brad.

"I'm right. You're thinking about leaving, aren't you?" Seth asks disbelievingly as Ryan gets off the couch.

Ryan turns around, stares at Seth.

He can't bring himself to confirm his foster brother's suspicions.

But it doesn't matter.

They've mastered the art of non-verbal communication.

Surprisingly, it's Seth that looks away first.

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To be continued.


	25. Best of Intentions Chapter TwentyFour

Author's Note: Well, the dashes are gone again. (Sad.) I guess we will have to go with the xxxxxxxxx.

Many continued thanks for the encouragement and feedback. I have no idea why, but I'm back on track. Guess it's best not to ask questions.

Let's all do the wave for **crashcmb**. Everybody stand up on 1…2….3.

Very good. Now on with the story that may or may not ever end.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Twenty-Four

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Borrowing a chapter from the "Ryan Atwood Book of Reactions To Uncomfortable Situations", Seth lays on the couch with no intention of speaking to anyone.

Ignoring the kid.

Ignoring Ryan.

"Seth, things are a mess."

Seth rolls over, turning his back to Ryan. Fuck it. If Ryan is actually thinking about just abandoning him for this new guy and his stupid kids than just fuck it. Whatever. It's painfully clear where he stands on Ryan's list of important people.

"I'll let you sleep," he hears Ryan say softly. But he can feel his foster brother still behind him, lingering.

"Seth, this is all really hard. I just, I…"

Seth pulls his blanket up, says coldly, "I have a headache, can you please shut off the damn Playstation."

"Come on Brad," he hears Ryan click off the TV and exit the living room.

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Carol offers to take Josh for a while.

Ed accepts, stating that he has a few things he needs to take care of.

After her brother brings Josh to her room, she waits a little while before asking the boy, "Are you ok?"

Josh flops down on the bed. "No," he answers gloomily.

Carol takes a deep breath, sits down next to him.

"When your father first told me about Ryan, I was angry with him."

Josh stares at his hands but asks hesitantly, "You were?"

"Yes," Carol nods, "I was furious. I thought he had lied to your mother, to all of us. I thought he had betrayed his family."

Josh looks at her, "You did?"

"Absolutely. This is scary Josh. Even for me, and it doesn't directly affect me like it does you."

"Are you still mad at him?"

Carol considers the question. "Not really. Your father didn't know about Ryan, Josh, not until a few days ago. But I can understand if you're still angry with him."

They sit in silence.

He scoots a little closer to her.

"You know Josh, you and Ryan have a few things in common."

_Besides just a father_.

Carol puts her arm around her nephew's shoulder and the boy finishes closing the gap that separates them, sitting side by side to her.

"For instance, Ryan doesn't live with his mother. And from the few times I've met him, I'd say he doesn't much like to talk about what's happening inside his head, maybe has some trouble, like you, trying to get people to understand what he's thinking."

"Is his mom dead?" Josh asks.

"No," Carol shakes her head. "She left Ryan with the Cohens."

"Is he weird? I mean why would somebody just give up their kid?"

"I'm not really sure. Maybe Ryan's mother was having trouble and she was overwhelmed. Maybe she didn't have anyone to help her, like your father has me. You know Josh, if he wanted to be, Ryan could probably be angry all the time too. Sweetie, he's had a really tough life, much harder than yours. I know you miss your mom, and things with your father are difficult right now, but honey you have a wonderful home with people who love you and keep you safe and allow you to be a child. Next time you see Ryan, I want you to remember that he hasn't been as lucky as you."

Josh squirms a little, looks away from her.

"But most importantly Josh, I really want you to think about the kind of person your mother was, and how she tried to raise you, to respect and care about people."

He sits quietly for a few minutes before telling her, "I'm gonna' start being nicer to Brad," mutters, "and maybe dad."

Carol was hoping for a last, reluctant, _"and Ryan"_, but she'll settle for this for right now. It's the most positive thing she's heard from him in months.

"That'd be wonderful Josh."

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Brad sits at the kitchen counter looking at Ryan.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks.

"No," Ryan answers quietly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Ryan dismisses Brad's concerns. "Seth doesn't feel well."

Brad looks around the kitchen, spots the patio.

"That's your pool?"

"Yep," Ryan nods, glances in the direction of the living room where Seth is staging a sleep-in.

"Can I go swimming?" Brad asks.

"Do you have a bathing suit?"

"No."

The two boys stare at each other.

"So, can I go swimming?" Brad asks again, smirking mischievously.

Ryan smiles. "Sure."

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Sandy and Kirsten observe them from the kitchen.

Ryan is reclining in a lounger, sporting trunks and a t-shirt, reading a book.

Brad, stripped down to his jean shorts, does a back flip into the pool.

He's fearless.

"He could crack his head open," Kirsten cautions.

"He won't," Sandy assures her, places his cup into the sink.

"Where are you going?" Kirsten asks him as he exits the kitchen.

"Outside," Sandy answers, lowers his head and laughs to himself. "This whole time I've been concentrating on Ed Carden. It's about time I dealt with the real competition."

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"Is this seat taken?" he asks Ryan, pointing to the empty chair next to him.

Ryan sits up, glances nervously at Sandy.

"So, Ryan," Sandy waves a hand at Brad, "pictures do not do that kid justice. Yeah, sure, I mean in the photo I saw of him, he looked like you but, seeing the live version is…"

"Weird?" Ryan asks, grimacing, "Strange, abnormal?"

"I was going to say interesting, but I suppose those descriptors are as good as any."

Brad notices Sandy and climbs out of the pool, wet feet slapping the concrete as he performs the infamous, 'I'm not really running next to the pool but just walking fast'.

"Can we go surfing now?" Brads asks, his teeth chattering as his skin acclimates itself to a post pool breeze.

"About that.." Sandy starts.

"Not gonna' happen?" Brad finishes.

"I don't think so," Sandy shakes his head.

"No problem," Brad heads back to the pool.

"Hey," Sandy shouts after him. "I'm thinking about grilling up some lunch. Would you like a hamburger?"

Sandy watches with interest as Brad considers the question and then shifts his gaze to Ryan. The older boy nods, says quietly, "It's ok."

"Yes please," Brad answers, scoots off to the other side of the pool.

"He already looks up to you," Sandy comments to Ryan.

"What?" Ryan asks confused.

"Just now, with the hamburger. He wasn't going to tell me 'yes' until he got your approval. He's already looking to you as someone with authority, as someone who matters."

Ryan stares blankly in the direction of the pool.

"I take it you hadn't noticed?" Sandy persists with the subject.

Ryan drops his head, "Uh, no."

"I've been thinking about this morning Ryan, our conversation in the kitchen."

The teen shifts his position in the seat, his body stiffens.

"I came on a little too strong and I'm sorry. I was out of line. As hard as the last few days have been on me Ryan, they've been impossible on you. Seth's illness, Ed's appearance, these kids suddenly thrust on you. I don't know how you do it kid. It's like you have an extra gene designed solely to help you cope with incredibly difficult situations. But sometimes you worry me Ryan, because I wonder if you are actually coping or just passively accepting things you feel powerless to control. There is a difference you know, between coping and just giving up."

Ryan doesn't respond, but he's listening. Sandy knows this kid's body language well enough by now. He has Ryan's attention.

"Kirsten has been very careful, since the beginning of all this, to make sure I keep your best interests in mind. Did you know that?"

Ryan shakes his head no, glances up at Sandy with a combination of sad and uncertainty.

Those eyes.

Ryan has the most expressive eyes of any kid he's ever met.

Ryan's eyes aren't just a window to his soul; they're a freaking roadmap.

No wonder he usually shields them.

"Well, she's working behind the scenes. You should be somewhat familiar with that approach."

Ryan smiles a sheepish grin.

"Anyway, she's very good about reminding me that all this is about you and not my or Ed Carden's egos."

Ryan side-glances him, more questioning and intrigued now, less of the sad.

"And she's very big on keeping me from bad-mouthing Ed, which in retrospect, I have to admit she's right about. It's absolutely irresponsible of me to do anything that might affect your relationship with this man Ryan, especially now, now that it's glaringly obvious that you are his biological son."

"Ryan, hey, watch this," Brad calls out. The little boy runs to the edge of the pool and dives onto a floating chair, skims the entire length of the pool.

"That was great man," Ryan encourages the boy. "But be careful on the concrete, don't crack your head open."

Sandy watches Ryan watching Brad.

The teenager's mood is instantly lifted for the few seconds he's engaged in conversation with the little boy. As he returns his attention to Sandy, his mood resumes a sullenness.

"But I have a few concerns Ryan, a few things I want you to think about, and I need to share them with you. I'm not trying to take advantage of my relationship with you to cast a shadow on Ed, so if you prefer to not hear what I have to say, I understand and this is the last time I'll bring it up."

Ryan fidgets with his book, opening and closing the cover.

"Do you want me to go ahead Ryan?" Sandy asks.

The teen nods, then says a soft, "Yes."

"I think Ed Carden is confused right now Ryan. I think he's desperate to make up the years he's lost with you. I think he feels guilty as hell and now he's doing everything he can to make himself feel better and to say it bluntly, that means convincing you to live with him."

Ryan closes the book, pushes it aside, stares at Sandy.

Sandy moves forward in his chair, shifts a little closer to Ryan, makes eye contact while he can, before the kid breaks it off.

"And I don't think he's even aware of his true motivations. I think he's all military, take charge, approach the problem with a solution. In his eyes, your father is in jail, your mother abandoned you with your lawyer and he's biologically responsible for you. I'm sure he thinks having you live with him is the closest thing he can do to make amends for his past actions, somehow absolve himself of sin. He's not being fair to himself Ryan, because I don't believe for one minute that Ed Carden would have ever left your mother in Fresno if he knew she was pregnant with his baby. Despite all my reservations concerning how he has handled this situation Ryan, my first impression of Ed was that he was a good guy."

"Ryan, will you race me across the pool?"

Brad's request interrupts Sandy.

Ryan raises a hand to his eyes, squints into the sun, tells Brad, "Um, in just a minute ok? Can you wait for a couple of minutes?"

"Ok," Brad shouts back, dives under the water.

"You doing all right? Should I keep going?" Sandy asks hesitantly. "Do you want to take a break? Go play with the kid?"

"No," Ryan shakes his head, "I'm good."

"Where was I?" Sandy asks out loud, tells himself, '_Oh, that's right, walking a fine line'._

"Yeah, so, I don't think Ed can see past his own guilt right now to make sure that what he is proposing, what he is pushing for, is really what is best for you. He's smart Ryan. So smart. I'm guessing now I know where your test scores come from. Don't you think it's a little bit more than a coincidence that his kids are out here all of a sudden, that he wanted you to meet them? You're an intelligent kid Ryan. Think about it. I don't know what else this guy has told you, in private, without Kirsten and I around, but I do know that every time you see Ed Carden, talk to him, you come back just a little more unsure of your place in my family. I'm wondering what he is saying to you, how much he is pressuring you, in both obvious and subversive ways. Ed knew days ago, when Seth was in the hospital, that it was wrong to come into this house, and put you into his car, but he did it anyway. Sure he apologized afterwards, but it didn't stop him, did it? And he encouraged you to continue to communicate with him behind my and Kirsten's backs. I know he said something to you yesterday, at the beach, and I know that the chances of you telling me what he said are slim to none."

Sandy stops talking, watches Ryan for a sign that the teenager might want to tell him anything about his most recent encounter with Carden. But Ryan doesn't appear to have any desire to contribute to the conversation, so Sandy plows on.

"When I first met Ed on Thursday, he struck me as a guy that had just been blind-sighted and was desperately trying to process what had happened. I think that he's still that panicked, shocked guy, Ryan. Basically a nice man, maybe trying to force a solution onto a problem he hasn't had adequate time to grasp or understand."

Ryan keeps his head down but Sandy reaches for his face, turns it so the teen is forced to look at him.

"You have a right to these people Ryan and they have a right to you. You have a right to want to know them and vice versa. And I'm listening to you, right now as you sit in this chair. You brought this little boy home to show me what you're dealing with, the pressure that you are under. I get what you're trying to tell me kid. I hear what you're not saying. I'm working really hard at this mind reading thing. But rushed decisions, made out of guilt, or a misguided sense of duty, rarely work out. Guilt Ryan, I'm talking about you, and I'm talking about Ed."

Sandy pauses for a moment, puts his hand on Ryan's arm.

"I brought you into this home on an impulse, but it was never out of guilt. Kirsten and I asked you to stay not because Dawn left you, but because we wanted you. I've told you that before. If it hasn't sunk in at this point, I don't know what else to say. Someone has to let up on you Ryan, someone has to back off, so at this moment, I'm done, I'm stepping aside. Kirsten and I will support whatever you decide. I'm only asking that you do the same favor for Kirsten that I promised her I would do, keep your own best interests in mind. Do what your gut tells you to do. But be honest, and please, I am begging you, do not allow what you feel is best for anyone else dictate your decision. Not this time Ryan, not with your future. This is too important. Just this once, you be completely selfish and don't consider anyone's needs but your own. Not me, not Ed, not Seth, not even that kid in the pool. Appeasement isn't going to work this time Ryan, there's too many people involved. Not everyone is going to walk away from this one happy kid, not even yourself, and that's not your fault. Just do the best you can do, be as honest to yourself as you can be. Don't worry about anyone but Ryan Atwood."

He slaps Ryan once on the arm, points to the pool, "I already cancelled on the surfing, cut the kid a break and race him. I'm going to go start lunch."

Ryan acknowledges Sandy's shift in gears with a nod, stands up, takes his shirt off.

Before he goes to the pool, Sandy asks him, "I've learned so much Ryan, in my time as a public defender, seeing the mistakes kids and their parents make. Do you know what stands out the most?"

"No," Ryan shakes his head, stares out at Brad as he waits for the answer.

Sandy takes the shirt from his hand, folds it before placing it on his foster son's lawn chair.

"I've learned Ryan, that sometimes there are no easy solutions, no easy formula to some of the challenges life throws at us. And even the best of intentions can lead to the wrong answers."

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To be continued……………………

Thanks for reading.


	26. Best of Intentions Chapter TwentyFive

Author's note: Hi guys. This update is a few days later than I had intended. Stoooopid real life.

I tinkered after **crashcmb** beta'd, which I suppose sort of makes no sense. Sorry **crash**.

More Sandy, (cause I love me the Sandy), a little Seth, additional brooding on the parts of Ryan and Josh, excited Brad, maternal Kirsten, crafty Carol and last but never least, Father of the Year, Ed.

Of course, no ending. Sigh.

Thanks for reading.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter 25

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Kirsten knocks on the pool house door.

Ryan answers, gives her a timid smile.

"I um, I found a bag of Seth's old clothes. Actually, I have a hidden bag of his clothes that I can never seem to bring myself to give away, mostly baby stuff, but I have a few other things thrown in there. I found a pair of jeans I think might fit Brad. If you let me have his wet shorts, I'll throw them in the dryer."

"Thanks," Ryan accepts the pants, opens the door for Kirsten to come in. "He's uh, in the shower. I figured with the chlorine…"

"Good, absolutely Ryan. I bet you had to make the suggestion. Seth never wanted to take a shower after the pool when he was Brad's age. He never understood why he wasn't already clean."

Ryan laughs a little, "Yeah, that's about right."

Kirsten turns toward the door, "Ok well, we'll see you guys in a few minutes for lunch."

Ryan moves in front of her, opens the door, holds up the jeans, "Thank you."

"No problem. Let's just not tell Seth about the bag, because, you know, he already thinks I'm obsessive compulsive about his childhood. The catalogued video tapes don't help."

"No bagging on the bag, got it," Ryan promises her, stares at Kirsten as if he has something to add.

His look of uncertainly causes her to hesitate in the doorway.

"Um, thank you, for everything, with all this, going on. Sandy said you…" Ryan pauses, seems to rethink what he was going to say. "My mom would never have handled all of this so well." He looks away, says quietly, "My mom never handles anything well."

Kirsten wants to tell him a million things.

He's so important to them. He's reminded her that life is more than Newport and building houses. He's given Seth back to them. Her son is out of his room, talking to his parents again, almost always smiling, enjoying his life. She and Sandy are closer, Ryan's presence returning them to vestiges of their early life together, when the world's injustices were something to be conquered, not endured. They have a renewed sense of perspective, purpose, and it's all due to Ryan being a part of their family.

She's learning to love him, surprising herself that she is even capable, since her mother's death, of reaching out again and wanting to care for someone new.

But this is Ryan, and Ryan doesn't necessarily need words so much as he needs assurances.

She takes a chance, puts her arms around him and gives him a tentative hug, a quick pat on his back.

He allows it, more importantly, accepts it, lays his head on her shoulder for a flash, and then shyly steps back.

"You're welcome Ryan."

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"Seth says he's not hungry. Evidently pureed hamburger holds very little interest to him."

Sandy sits down at the dining room table.

Kirsten stands up.

"Well, I should get him some soup or something then. He's barely eating, all he does is sleep. I'm taking him back to Demsky in the morning."

"Don't bother honey," Sandy motions for her to sit back down, "with the soup that is, he's already back asleep, or pretending to be asleep, who knows. He's not talking to me."

"Me either," Ryan looks up at Sandy wearily, shrugs hopelessly.

"Well at least he's spreading the resentment around," Sandy quips, "I'd hate to be the sole bearer of that burden."

"Brad, what would you like to drink?" Kirsten addresses the youngest member of the luncheon.

"I have to have milk," he says gloomily, mutters, "milk at all meals."

"Well good for you," Sandy reaches over and slaps Brad on the back. "making healthy beverage choices. I'll take a milk too honey. Ryan?"

"Yeah," Ryan agrees quietly, "Milk's great."

"See?" Sandy tells Brad, "Milk's a manly drink."

Brad grins and sits up a little higher in his chair.

"So, what do you two have planned for this afternoon?" Sandy asks Ryan.

"Paragliding," Brad quickly interjects.

Ryan looks at the boy, says a firm, "No."

"Or not," Brad replies.

Sandy grins playfully at Ryan, clears his throat. "Um Brad, did you know that Ryan here is uncomfortable being high up?"

"No," Brad answers, suddenly very interested in what Sandy has to say. The little boy scoots his chair a little closer, lowers his voice and asks Sandy, "Like afraid of heights?"

"No," Ryan answers loudly, shakes his head.

Sandy raises his eyebrows at Ryan.

"Afraid is too strong of a word," Ryan defends himself.

"We'll talk about it later," Sandy whispers to Brad. "It's a touchy subject."

Ryan clunks a spoon up and down on the table, stares at Sandy.

"So, no plans?" Sandy raises his voice, changes the topic. "I could maybe take you guys sailing or something. How long do we have the pleasure of Brad's company?"

"Um, I'm not really sure," Ryan answers, puts down the spoon, scratches the back of his neck. "I need to make another call pretty soon and check."

"Do that," Sandy says cheerfully. "Ask if you can keep Brad a few more hours. We'll take him down to the docks, rent a boat, do a little fishing. That sound good?"

Brad practically bounces off his chair, "Yes! I saw once on TV, some guys caught a shark. How cool would that be?"

Ryan locks eyes with Sandy, gives his foster father a half-smile, "Yeah, fishing sounds good."

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He's become an equation.

One Chino plus One Newport, the sum of which is Ryan Atwood.

Chino Ryan is wondering what in the hell Sandy is up to, what is he trying to gain by suddenly being so relaxed and nice around Brad. What does Sandy want from him, what is his foster father trying to tell him?

Newport Ryan is in awe of Sandy for treating Brad with respect and humor and bringing him into his family despite what Brad may represent to Ryan's current living conditions. This is the man he admires. This is the man he hopes to be one day.

They finish lunch. Ryan watches as Sandy helps Brad clear his area, showing the little boy where to put his dishes.

Kirsten joins them, teasing Sandy that Brad is their guest and she can't believe that he's already putting the child to work.

A lightening strike of what could have been hits Ryan hot in the chest.

Takes his breath away.

Sandy, Kirsten and this little boy that looks so much like himself.

Together.

He's spent his lifetime not looking back, not wondering 'what if'. He's too practical for that shit.

But a little voice in his brain won't back off, screams at him, _"Stop fucking thinking so hard. See what's in front of you. This man is becoming your father. Why waste energy or time or even one day looking for something you already have?"_

Images and little voices and kind actions.

All conspiring to ruin his imperfect plan of leaving Newport.

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Carol takes Josh souvenir hunting.

It's both a distraction and a required vacation obligation.

He picks out some things for both sets of grandparents.

Since Sara's death, she or Ed take the boys to see their maternal grandparents once a week.

It's important to everyone.

At the checkout counter, Carol spots the latest issue of Sports Illustrated. On the cover is David Beckham, his body frozen in a kicking motion. The caption next to the picture promises insights into Beckham's practice secrets. Carol picks up the magazine, places it along side the other items she and Josh are purchasing.

"Who's that for?" Josh asks, "Brad?"

"Nope," Carol smiles. "It's for Ryan. He also plays soccer."

Josh stares at the magazine. "We should get one for Brad too."

"Maybe Brad and Ryan could look at this one together," Carol suggests, hopefully.

Josh ignores her, takes another SI off the rack and plunks it down on the counter.

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Kirsten places the digital thermometer in Seth's ear.

Sighs.

His fever is back.

She retrieves the Motrin, sits on the couch, eases Seth's head up, coaxes him to drink the medicine.

"I'm sick again," he whines.

Not whines.

He's just being honest.

"Sweetheart, can you try eating something Seth? At least drink some juice or water."

"No," he nuzzles his head into his pillow.

His cheeks are rosy, the rest of his face pale.

Kirsten brushes her hand against Seth's cheek, rubs up and down, pushes his sweaty hair off his forehead.

"I think Ryan is thinking about leaving," Seth mumbles.

"I know," Kirsten answers him, adds quietly, "He is."

"As soon as I feel better, I'm gonna' fix this whole debacle that you and dad and Ryan have gotten yourselves into."

"Ok," she humors him.

"I just need a little more sleep. Then I'm on it. Can't leave you people alone."

Kirsten has a list of a dozen things she should do in preparation for taking work off tomorrow.

Instead, she remains on the couch with Seth, listening to her son's labored snoring.

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Whether or not Ryan chooses to stay with them, Sandy has already filed this afternoon into the permanent memory portion of his brain.

He sits in a chair, feet up on the railing of the boat they have rented, pretending to be more interested in the fishing process than the two boys beside him.

But it's impossible.

Completely impossible to not be mesmerized by this child's affect on Ryan. Since their arrival at the boat this afternoon, his foster son has been at ease, no doubt relaxed to have something to do besides fixate on his own issues.

Little things are burned in Sandy's memory.

Quick moments he'll share later, with Kirsten, tonight in their bed.

Ryan lifting Brad into the boat, slowing the boy down long enough to tie his shoe, adjusting the straps on the life preserver.

Patiently answering a string of questions, more talking than Sandy's ever seen Ryan engaged in.

At the present moment, Brad's on to something, a fish pulling on his line. Ryanleans over the smaller boy, trying to help Brad reel the fish in.

"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. It's a shark I'm telling you. Be careful, be careful. You're gonna' lose it." Brad jumps up and down is a flurry of anticipation, barely avoiding head-butting Ryan's chin.

"Man, this thing is strong." Ryan struggles with the bending fishing rod while trying not to step on Brad.

"You're doing great there kid, keep it up," Sandy flings casual encouragement at the teenager.

"Thanks," Ryan grimaces at the squirming pole, rolls his eyes at Sandy, "That's very helpful. You're…being very helpful."

"No problem," Sandy remains seated. "We Cohen men, by our very ancestry, are natural fishermen."

"Yeah, I can tell," Ryan motions with his head to Sandy's empty bucket.

"There it is!" Brad screams excitedly. "Ryan, Ryan, let me grab it."

The little boy takes his hands off the pole, reaches out with a net to scoop the writhing fish out of mid-air.

It's no shark, but it's big. Ryan has to help Brad put the fish on the deck of the boat.

All three of them stare at it.

"What do we do with it?" Brad asks after a few seconds. "Can your mom, sorry, can Kirsten, sorry, can Mrs. Cohen cook it?"

Sandy spits out a mouthful of water at the mere suggestion.

"Ah, no," Ryan shakes his head back and forth.

The fish stops moving, then rallies with a second round of pitiful convulsions.

"Well if we aren't going to eat it, what should we do with it?" Brad looks up at Ryan.

Ryan leans down, picks up the fish, and removes the hook.

"Let it go."

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Kirsten reaches a live human being at Demsky's answering service.

"I'm well aware it's a Sunday," Kirsten briskly assures the girl, "but I need Dr. Demsky to call me. It's about my son. I normally would never ask the doctor to call me at home, on a weekend, but Seth just got out of the hospital."

The girl takes all the pertinent information from Kirsten, promises to do her best to reach the doctor.

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On the dock, Ryan flips his cell phone shut.

"He's ah, back at the hotel. I should bring Brad back now."

"Ok," Sandy nods. "Come on, I'll drive you guys."

Ryan sneaks a few nervous glances at Sandy.

Cringes.

"Um, maybe I should just go alone. I might hang out there for a little while."

"Well I'll drop you off then," Sandy doesn't back down. "You can call me when you're ready to come home."

Ryan scratches his eyebrow. "Um, maybe it's not such a good idea if you and that guy…"

"Ryan, come on, I called a truce, remember? What do you think? I'm going to cause a scene with Ed? In front of his kids and you? Come on, don't you know me better than that?"

The teen looks down, considers Sandy's words, doesn't give an answer.

"Brad, what do you say we stop for ice cream on the way back to the hotel?" Sandy asks the younger boy, stepping quickly to catch up with him.

Ryan lags behind the other two as they make their way to the Rover, squinting up into the afternoon sun before lowering his head and walking silently to the vehicle.

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"I know it's nerve-wracking Kirsten," Dr. Demsky sympathizes, "but the symptoms you are describing to me are normal for mononucleosis. Is Seth going to the bathroom at least once every four hours? Does he have decent urine output? Is it dark in color?

Kirsten stares at the phone. Is this man serious? She's not even certain if Seth has clean clothes on, let lone how much urine he has output.

Demsky translates her silence for the ignorance it is, gives her more options to consider. "Have him open his mouth. Is he producing saliva? How much has Seth had to drink today, eaten? Even a small amount is enough to prevent dehydration. Is he still vomiting? Do his eyes look sunken in?"

She answers no to the vomiting and eyes, yes to Seth managing to keep some fluids down. But she repeats her concerns about the lack of food intake. He's listless, back to barely moving.

She remembers his stomach, tells Demsky that Seth is complaining about how bloated he feels, how uncomfortable he is.

"Ok," the doctor concedes. "Why don't you bring Seth in tomorrow morning? We'll run a CAT Scan, see how his spleen is doing, maybe hook him up to an IV for a quick fluid push. But seriously Kirsten, I'm sure everything is all right. Who knows why mono hits kids differently? It sounds like Seth just has a whopper of a case."

She hangs up, sure that the doctor is only placating her, allowing an appointment tomorrow.

But to hell with him and whoever else wants to think she is overreacting.

This is her child, not a business deal. She's not open to negotiations.

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Ryan hopes that Sandy will drop him and Brad off at the curb.

No such luck.

He sits in the passenger seat, desperately squelching the impulse for a cigarette, as Sandy finds a parking space in the hotel's garage.

Sandy is acting so weird.

Way too cheery.

Psychotically complacent, accepting everything, from Brad's presence all afternoon to Ryan going back to the hotel this evening.

Ryan listened the entire length of the drive to Brad and his foster father chatting away, skipping from one topic to another, wondering what purpose Sandy has in wanting to come to the hotel.

As Sandy turns the engine to the Rover off, he looks into the back seat, tells Brad, "You are a very entertaining young man."

"Is that good?" Brad asks skeptically.

"Yes it is," Sandy assures him.

"All righty then," Brad replies, opens the car door.

"I uh, I could walk Brad up," Ryan offers one last time, desperate to get rid of Sandy, prevent him from seeing Ed. "I'll call you if I need a ride."

"What?" Sandy mocks insult, "And miss the opportunity to let Ed know what an incredible son he has?"

Sandy smiles at Ryan, "Not on your life kid, no way."

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Carol opens the hotel door when she hears Brad outside of it.

A handsome man stands there, his fist poised in a knocking gesture.

"Oh, hi," he offers out his hand. "Sandy Cohen. You must be the famous Aunt Carol. Brad's told me so much about you."

She cocks her head to the side, laughs, accepts Sandy's offer of a handshake. "Don't believe a word of it, except for the cheap part. I'm very miserly and proud of it."

"Aren't we all?" Sandy agrees.

Brad eases around Sandy into the hotel room.

Carol pats him on the head as he goes by.

"Did you have fun today?" She asks the boy.

"Yeah," Brad nods. "Unbelievably awesome. You should see their house. Ryan's dad, sorry, Sandy, sorry, Mr. Cohen, has a surfboard and they have Playstation and Ryan has his own house, seriously, his own house, and a pool, but I think he has to share that."

He tugs on Carol's shirt, pulls her close, "And they took me fishing but don't tell Josh 'cause I don't want to make him feel bad…or get him mad at me."

She winks at him, "My lips are sealed."

Carol resumes a standing position, " Mr. Cohen, would you like to come in?"

"Um," Sandy scans the room.

Ed walks out from the bathroom, spots Brad, "Hey kiddo, glad you're back."

Carol's no dummy. She sees Sandy immediately zone in on her brother.

"Ed," she calls over her shoulder, "I think there's someone here who'd like to see you."

"Ryan?" Ed asks hopefully, comes to the door.

"Yes," Sandy answers, "and me. How are you Ed?"

Ed stares at Sandy's outstretched hand, hesitantly accepts it.

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Ryan silently watches the train wreck he's been envisioning since the moment Sandy made his intentions clear to come into the hotel.

Back and forth, he volleys nervous glances between the two men as they exchange forced pleasantries.

Sandy turns to him, "Ryan, why don't you step inside the room a second, update Carol on what Brad has done today, what he's had to eat."

Ryan doesn't move, only stares at Sandy.

Ed follows Sandy's lead but ups the directness and air of authority. "Go inside Ryan. I'd like to talk to Sandy alone for a minute."

Ryan steps back impulsively, closer to Sandy.

"Um, I think I should stay out here."

"I asked you to go inside Ryan," Ed folds his arms, looks expectantly at Ryan.

Ryan tilts his head, studies Ed.

In start the fists, open and shut.

"Ok, you know what?" Sandy, points to Ryan. "This guy, always so tense." He reaches over and squeezes Ryan on the shoulder, meets Ed's stare dead on, reduces his voice to monotone, serious. "This kid, I'm telling you what Ed, always so serious, like he's carrying the weight of the world around."

Sandy slaps Ryan on the back, resumes his causal mood. "Hey, Mr. Doom and Gloom, Ed and I are capable of conducting a civilized conversation. Did I or did I not make you a promise today? Go inside Ryan, everything's fine, this will only take a minute."

Ryan hesitates and then gives in, shuffling slowly past Ed, into the hotel room, glancing back doubtfully over his shoulder at the two men.

Ed steps into the hallway and closes the door.

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"My lawyer has advised me to limit our conversations to a minimum," Ed starts out of the gate first. "And I'm respecting his advice."

"That's nice," Sandy smiles. "I'm not. I suggest you ignore it as well. You're not going anywhere. You and I are going to have a nice long chat Ed."

Carden sizes Sandy up, asks, "Are you threatening me?"

"No" Sandy shakes his head back and forth. "Are you disappointed? It'd simplify your life a whole hell of a lot, wouldn't it, if you could tack on an assault charge to the child custody petition I have no doubt your are plotting to serve me and my wife with."

Ed remains silent, neither denying nor confirming Sandy's accusation.

"I'll cut to the chase. I know what you're up to. I know what you're trying to do here Ed, what you're trying to do to Ryan. I got to tell you, you have impressive manipulation skills. Newport could use a man like you. I'm sure my father-in-law would take to you like white on rice. And you couldn't have gotten any luckier, really Ed. Talk about your good fortune. Ryan's a perfect target when it comes to guilting a child to ease your own conscience. Easy pickings. You should be very proud of yourself. He's more unsure of his place in my family now than since the day he moved in. You're doing a very effective job of undermining this kid's self-confidence, eroding the first stable home he's had in years."

Sandy steps back, claps several loud, exaggerated claps.

"Con-grat-u-fucking-lations, Ed. Ryan is officially an insecure mess."

"Are you done?" Ed asks coldly. "If so, I'd like to go spend some time with my sons, all my sons. Don't you have one of your own you need to get home to?"

"Who exactly are you?" Sandy inquires, moves into Ed's space. "What did you do with that guy I met in my office? The one who I believed with all my heart wanted desperately to know that Ryan was ok, was worried about Ryan's well being. Is that guy still in there at all Ed? Or have you completely lost track of whose needs are most important in all this?"

Ed shuffles his weight, breaks his stare with Sandy.

"That kid," Sandy points towards the hotel door, "was doing ok up until a few days ago. And yes, we've had our fair share of problems, and no, it's not ideal that he's had to leave his own home to be in mine, but my house, my family has become his home. You told my wife that Ryan had a right to know what he's giving up by not being a part of your family. Well Ed, fair's fair. You should know what you're asking Ryan to give up. _My_ wife, _my_ son, _my _home, his girlfriend, his job, his soccer team, the handful of friends he's made, his school, the months it's taken for us to bring him from a pissed off, volatile, insecure, angry child to a young man with a promising future. You want that responsibility? You think you can balance Ryan's emotional needs with his temper and years of screwed up parenting and a lifetime of disappointment? Fine. Do it. Have at it. But you better make damn sure you have Ryan's needs before your own. Because as much as you are a victim in all this, Ryan is the one who's going to have to pay the ultimate price of Dawn's act of omission. He's already started to. No matter where he chooses to live, he's going to have to leave behind someone that he's come to care about."

Ed clears his throat, rubs his temple.

Sandy catches his breath, combs a hand through his hair, steps back away from Carden.

"Now I'm done Ed."

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Carol retrieves a Sports Illustrated from her shopping bag, holds it out to Josh, whispers, "Why don't you give this to Ryan?"

He blinks at her, finally takes the magazine from her hand.

Sensing a breakthrough, Carol walks behind Josh as the boy approaches Ryan and Brad.

"Hey," Josh interrupts the two boys as they look through one of Brad's skateboarding magazines, "I got you something today."

He places the Sports Illustrated into Brad's hand, tells the boy, "Here you go little brother," pivots around, gives Carol a casual shrug, and settles back into his chair with a book.

Carol sighs.

Reminds herself Josh is just a child, really only capable of childish reactions.

She moves on to the new nephew.

Hope springs eternal.

"How are you?" she asks Ryan. "How's that eye doing?"

"It's uh," the teen scratches his left eye subconsciously, "It's fine."

"Soccer huh?" she questions. "Did you get kicked?"

Ryan's black eye has been bugging Carol, ever since yesterday the beach, when she suspected that the teenager was lying to Kirsten concerning the origins of the eye injury. She bit her tongue then, partly out of respect to Kirsten Cohen and partly because she had no desire at the time to give Ryan a reason not to like her. But now, without either of the Cohens around to witness Ryan's answer, Carol is intrigued to discover the real reason behind the black eye. Maybe he'll tell her.

"What?" Ryan turns toward her, concentrating on their conversation now, instead of Brad's magazine.

"Well, I mean, soccer is a rough sport but I've never seen anyone get a black eye from it before. Not unless they got kicked or hit by the ball."

Ryan stays quiet.

"So which was it?" Carol continues, "Kicked or hit? By the ball of course, because what else would you be hit by, in soccer practice?" She tilts her head, smiles innocently at him.

Carol doesn't want to bust Ryan for fighting, which at this point she's convinced is the culprit. She just wants to send a message to this kid that she's on to him, or better yet, let him know that it's ok to confide in her, if he feels he can't talk with the Cohens about it.

Ryan raises his eyebrows, starts to formulate an answer but is interrupted when the hotel room door opens.

"All done," Sandy effuses, holds his arms out wide. "See? No blood? We're both still standing."

Ryan walks towards the open door, scrutinizing both men as he joins them in the hallway.

"Everything cool?" He asks carefully.

"As ice," Sandy answers, looks at Ed.

"Yeah Ryan, we're good. Sandy and I were just discussing a few things. I know we talked about you staying for dinner, but uh, maybe you should get going. Sandy tells me you have school in the morning. You probably have some homework you need to work on. Thanks so much for taking care of Brad today. It looks like he had a great time."

Still skeptical that nothing serious transpired in the hallway, Ryan nods suspiciously, starts to leave. Sandy stops him, puts a hand on the boy's shoulder, whispers something into his ear.

Ryan turns around, offers his hand to Ed, glances quickly at Sandy before saying, "I'll um, call you tomorrow, about the test."

Ed shakes the teenager's hand, looks over at Sandy waiting for Ryan, then turns quickly away, grasps Ryan's hand with his other one, holds on for a second longer than necessary.

"Big day for all of us tomorrow Ryan, I'll be looking forward to hearing from you."

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To be continued……….


	27. Best of Intentions Chapter TwentySix

**Author's Note: **Sorry, a little slow with this one. It's a long chapter, so I'm hoping I'm forgiven. I love my reviewers. You guys crack me up! This story has been so much fun to write, (usually), and the fact that you guys get stirred up enough to yell at the characters is so completely cool. I owe everyone a thanks when this ride is finally over.

**Benzbabidoll** is back, so she gets a blue Popsicle.

**Jane**, give me a shout when your e-mail is fixed 'cause I owe you a thank you.

And everyone smile, because **shelbecat** has a beautiful, healthy kitten.

**Crashcmb** is my belated beta valentine.

On with the drama.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Twenty-Six

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Ed steps into his hotel room, reserved, quiet.

Processing the exchange between himself and Sandy Cohen.

He's had just about enough of that lawyer and his sanctimonious bullshit.

Cohen talks about Ryan as if they have had the kid for years, not months.

Ed can't get the thought out of his head that if only he would have come to California a little earlier, he wouldn't even have to be dealing with Sandy Cohen. The court system wouldn't have blinked twice before it handed this kid over to him.

Carol meets him as he closes the door.

"What happened?" she asks.

"Ryan's not staying for dinner, he has school in the morning."

Carol stares at him, waiting for more information.

"Ed, what happened with Sandy Cohen, in the hall?"

"Nothing, nothing happened. Just his usual veiled threats. He doesn't want us in Ryan's life."

Carol continues to stare at Ed with a mixture of confusion and anticipation.

"What? Really? That's weird; I mean Brad just got done telling me everything he did today. Did you know that Sandy took him and Ryan fishing? If the Cohens don't want any of us in Ryan's life, why did they let him go to breakfast this morning, not to mention entertain Brad all afternoon? Kirsten brought Ryan to meet the boys and me at the beach yesterday. Why not just keep Ryan away completely?"

Ed shakes his head, heads for the hotel's small fridge, retrieves a beer, throws his hand out in exasperation, "I don't know Carol. How am I supposed to know what's going through these people's minds? One minute Sandy Cohen is offering me words of sympathy and the next minute he's pulling me out in the hallway of my hotel to bully me."

Carol glances at the boys to make sure they aren't paying attention to her and Ed. Across the room, Josh is still reading his book. Brad has flipped on the television. It's already early evening. The day is more or less gone. The boys will want to eat soon. It'd be nice to have a quiet, peaceful night, maybe take the boys out after dinner to a movie or somewhere along one of the local boardwalks.

She should keep her mouth shut and not agitate Ed anymore than Sandy Cohen has already managed to do. But something about her brother's summary of Ryan's foster family's motivations just doesn't ring true. As far as she has seen, the Cohens have done nothing but promote Ryan getting to know Ed and the boys. They've helped facilitate numerous meetings, even allowed the paternity test.

"Ed, I'm not trying to cause a fight between us, so please, just stay calm and help me understand why you are so angry with the Cohens. I think they are doing a pretty decent job of allowing us access to Ryan."

Ed takes a sip of his beer, glances at his sons. "What if I want more than just access Carol? What if I want the opportunity to develop a relationship with Ryan that goes beyond just random visits approved by the Cohens?"

"What, like regular correspondence? E-mails, phone calls, even visits? I'm sure that won't be a problem Ed. Do you want me to talk to Kirsten about it? If you're having trouble communicating with her husband, let me talk to Kirsten. She seems really reasonable."

For a split second, she can sense a flicker of anger from him, but then Ed seems to calm himself down, make a conscious choice not to argue with her. He takes another sip of his beer and sits down on the bed. Brad glances over his shoulder at his father, and then returns his attention to the television.

Ed asks her a soft voice, "Do you think I have a right to want even more than that? More than a few phone calls or some e-mails? I've been thinking that maybe I should have some parental rights."

He looks up at Carol and she's struck by how completely heartbroken her brother looks. Ed shakes his head, turns away from her, mutters, "Forget it."

Carol kneels down on one knee beside her brother, pushes him for a little more

information. "No, let's talk about it Ed. This is important. Yes, I do think you have a right to want a relationship with Ryan. What exactly were you thinking about? Maybe invite him to stay for a couple of weeks this summer or even winter break, get to know you and the boys a little better? I think that would be great. Ryan seems interested in pursuing a relationship; he's been making an effort to see you and the boys. I bet he might be willing to do something like that."

Ed laughs to himself, continues to shake his head, "A few weeks this summer, huh Carol? Yeah. That sounds about right. That's exactly what I meant."

She can't read him. He's flat. His words drip of sarcasm but his face is expressionless.

What did she say wrong this time?

Sometimes they wear her out, Josh and Ed.

Take everything from her that she has to give them emotionally and walk away as if she's given them nothing.

Brad turns off the television, comes over to Ed and maneuvers his way onto his father's lap.

"I'm hungry Dad. Can we go get something to eat?"

"Of course," Ed answers.

His fake smile is back.

Carol watches the three Carden men get ready for dinner, her brother seeming the perfect father, makeshift mother. He combs Brad's hair; helps the boys pick out clean clothes.

"Ready to go Sis?" he inquires enthusiastically. And suddenly he's the old Ed again, her little brother, the boy who used to depend on her and followed her and whom she has always, to the best of her abilities, protected. The man who once upon a time didn't have to have to work so hard to remember to smile for his son.

"Can we talk later, when the boys are asleep?" she asks him.

"Yeah, sure of course."

_But will you tell me anything_ Carol wonders as she grabs her purse and closes the hotel room door.

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"I want to show you something Ryan."

Sandy has taken a detour on the way home from the Cardens' hotel, down a street that Ryan has never been on.

"I want to show you the house that Kirsten and I and Seth moved into when we first came to Newport."

The car comes to a stop outside a small, one-story adobe house. It's little, but Ryan's guessing it still probably cost a quarter of a million. Nothing in Newport is cheap, not even its version of the slums.

Sandy laughs, "I think your pool house is bigger than this place."

"Yeah," Ryan agrees, leans over the dash to get a better look at the house.

"When your mom came back Ryan, and we thought maybe you might go and live with her, Kirsten and I remembered this house. We kicked around trying to buy it back, or one just like it, help your mom find a job, rent the house out to her, talk you guys into sticking close by."

Ryan turns his head toward Sandy, "Really?"

"Yeah," Sandy nods, "Really. Something about you kid. People just like having you around. So, there you go. Even if you would have gone back with Dawn, you weren't getting rid of us that easily. Not if Kirsten and I could have helped it. We just wanted to make the offer, let you and your mom know that you weren't alone anymore, that help was available if you guys wanted it."

"Sometimes I feel guilty," Ryan says quietly, lowers his head, "Because I'm glad she didn't take me with her, that she didn't stick around." He adds in a whisper, "That she didn't want me and that you guys did."

Sandy starts the car, "Well move over then, make room for one more, share the guilt, 'cause that makes two of us."

They drive a few blocks in silence before Sandy tells him, "I went on-line today, checked out some real estate. Did you know that they have some pretty decent houses for sale in Illinois? Yep," Sandy nods his head up and down, "amazing, and they all happen to be incredibly close to the town that Ed Carden lives in. Imagine that. Kirsten has always wanted a vacation house in Illinois."

Ryan looks at him skeptically, asks doubtfully, "She has?"

"No," Sandy admits, "but let's face it, she won't be going there for the scenery."

Ryan looks out the window, watches the picture perfect ornament houses float by in the waning light.

He always wondered, as a kid, who could possibly live in the mansions that existed outside of Chino. The ones he saw on TV. The ones he saw after Arturo got his car, and a bunch of them would jump into it and sail up and down on the ribbon of highway that hugged the coast, boasting about possessions they damn well knew they would never own.

Now he knows who lives in them.

Some good people, some bad people.

And a family named the Cohens.

"I meant what I said today Ryan. No more pressuring you. If you decide to move in with Ed, you don't have to give us up. We'll make it work. We'll figure out a plan that's best for you, ok kid? We'll figure something out Ryan."

Sandy pulls into the gate, waves in the general direction of the guardhouse.

"Did you ever think," Ryan asks him, "when you were growing up, that you'd ever live …here?"

"No," Sandy laughs. "And I'd never thought I'd have a wife as beautiful and remarkable as Kirsten. Sometimes I wake up, and I go down to the beach and I wonder whose life I'm living. What poor sap did I steal it from, because no way in hell did Sandy Cohen, skinny ass street punk from The Bronx, do anything to deserve all this. But then do you know what I say to myself?"

"No," Ryan shakes his head, watches Sandy intently.

"I tell myself, 'Hell Cohen, enjoy it, you must have done something right, for this woman to love you and to have the luck you've had.' And then I just go surfing, and enjoy it and stop trying to figure it all out or spend any time or energy waiting for it to end. Sometimes it's ok Ryan, to just accept that good things can happen to you along with the bad. It takes a little getting used to, not constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm still working on the concept myself."

They pull into the driveway and Sandy shuts off the motor, smiles at Ryan.

"What can I say? There just must be something about me kid."

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Ryan's already decided to make peace with Seth. It's ridiculous that they are even fighting, that is if you can call a one way shunning an actual fight.

He expected Seth to be disappointed that he was considering leaving. He wasn't counting on last night's all out anger. Seeing Seth's temper has Ryan thrown, wondering what he can do to fix it.

He doesn't want to leave California with Seth hating him.

He pretends he doesn't hear the little voice remind him that he doesn't want to leave California at all.

"_Quit being a little bitch."_

Once again, Trey's words haunt him. He made up his mind last night. It's time to leave the Cohens. He can't allow some last minute regrets to erode his resolve.

But it's kind of hard to stick by an alibi that consits of wanting to spare a family from having to deal with your sorry ass when that same family is talking about buying a vacation house just to sometimes be near you.

Tonight, when things with Seth are settled, maybe he'll go down to the beach and sit on the sand and think about what Sandy told him, today, all day, at the pool and the hotel and the car.

It dawns on him that he's never really even spoken to Ed...about much of anything...at all.

He just listens to Ed Carden.

And Sandy's right, most of what Carden says does leave him feeling like he's been shot through the heart, guilty to be here with the Cohens, guilty to exist, and guilty to be a sudden burden on this guy who obviously already has enough shit to deal with.

Ryan hears Seth cough and steers himself into the living room. His foster brother is sitting on the couch, leaned over a bucket, vomiting. Kirsten's rubbing Seth's back, talking softly, no doubt offering words of encouragement. Seth looks awful again, like the last two days didn't happen, like he never felt better. The thermometer and Motrin are on the end table. Kirsten looks up helplessly at Ryan.

"It's going to be a long night. Can you help Sandy get dinner ready?"

"Yeah," Ryan nods, keeps sneaking concerned looks at Seth. "Yeah, Sandy and I have it covered."

"Movie?" Seth grunts.

"Whatever you want man," Ryan immediately agrees.

Seth holds up a finger, "Brushing the teeth first. Much washing of the mouth needed."

Kirsten rises to help her son but Seth waves her off.

When Ryan returns to the living room to tell them dinner is ready, Seth has settled back into a light sleep.

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Kirsten barely speaks during the meal, her silence infusing into the dining room an electric- like sense of apprehension.

During the last few days, Seth had been doing a little better, more or less. They had assumed that he was on the rebound. The current set back is refocusing them all on the fact that he is still very sick.

Ryan tries to casually chatter during dinner, tries to contribute something other than his usual reticence. He tells them a little about school, soccer, a book he's reading. Sandy mentions the fishing trip expedition, throws in some cute things Brad did. Ryan and Sandy exchange constant glances at one another, each understanding that Kirsten is in need of some relief from the stress she is putting herself under.

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After dinner, Ryan assists in clean up, changes into some sweats and joins a sleeping Seth in the living room. His foster brother is snoring softly, in a deep state of REM.

Ryan gets up, wanders into the kitchen where Kirsten sits alone at the breakfast bar, sipping a cup of coffee. He retrieves a bottle of water from the fridge and joins her.

"Um, if it's ok with you, I'll take the night shift. You can uh, get some sleep. I'll wake you up if there's a problem." He sneaks a peek through shaggy bangs, waiting to see how responsive Kirsten is to the offer.

"I can't ask you to do that Ryan, you have school tomorrow. I'll stay up with him."

Ryan shifts a little in his seat, "Well, he wanted to watch a movie, so maybe I could stay up til' midnight, then I'll get you up."

Another quick glance in her direction.

Kirsten smiles, "You know what, I think I might accept your proposal. I've got some things I need to do, for work, and it'd be nice to spend some time with Sandy. He's taking the early morning shift."

She laughs a little, plays with the mug in her hand, "You know, Sandy and Seth think I'm paranoid. Seth has no problem telling me flat out I'm a pain in the ass, Sandy's a little more subtle, just looks at me like I should be sedated, or actively humored at all times. But, I've spent half my lifetime Ryan, being overprotective with Seth. I can't turn my instincts off just because he's getting older."

Ryan feels like he should say something, tell Kirsten what a good mom she is.

_His own mom tried, but usually when he was sick she would give up at some point, kiss him on the top of his head, hand him the medicine, tell him that she hoped he felt better, and then just slowly fade away, go back to her work, go back to her boyfriends and their demands, go back to her vices._

_He used to write the excuse notes, leave them on the table when he was ready to return to school, with a request for Dawn to sign it. The secretaries at his various schools used to ask him every single time, "Did you write this?" "Yeah," he would answer in a bored voice, "But my mom signed it. You can call her if you want."_

_Nobody ever bothered._

_He was one of hundreds, in high school, thousands._

Kirsten initiates the gesture he can't seem to be able to, reaches over and pats his hand. "Thanks Ryan, I appreciate you helping out. You never join the two of them in publicly mocking me, and I do notice and I am grateful to finally have someone on my side. Seth and Sandy can be so infuriating."

"You should uh, try and get some sleep," he says quietly as he gets up, heads back into the living room. He gathers his courage, takes a chance, goes out on an emotional limb, without looking up adds, "I think Seth's lucky, that you care so much."

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It's a beautiful night and technically they are on vacation. Sure it's late, but the concept of time has entered into that weird, fluid zone. Usual time constraints, like bedtime and alarm clocks have given way to a bohemian style of "whenever."

Carol and Ed sit at a seaside café, sipping beers while the boys play close by on the beach, gingerly dipping their bare feet in the ocean, yelping at the chilly water, running pel mel.

Josh is laughing, Ed is relaxed and Carol doesn't want this night to ever end.

The alcohol is loosening Ed's tongue. He rarely ever drinks enough to get a buzz. But tonight, for some reason, he's kicking more than a few back, talking easily, about almost everything.

Still no Ryan.

She supposes any discussions concerning a new child must rank a twelve pack or more.

He's always been a sweet drunk and that has always surprised her. You'd think, with her brother's personality, he'd fist fight his way to sobriety. But not Ed, he turns into a human powder puff. She and Sara used to laugh at him and his occasional holiday party stupor. He would hang on to his wife, kissing her, hugging her, telling everyone how wonderful she was and how lucky he was and wasn't she the most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen.

The memories are making her sad, wishing to have Sara back. Sometimes, she spends so much energy helping Ed and the boys mourn, that she forgets to let herself feel the loss.

Sara had become Carol's best friend.

She pretends that her nephews fill the void, continue Sara's spirit. But they don't, not fully. And sometimes she sits with her office door locked and cries and angrily brushes the tears aside.

"What are you thinking about?" Ed smiles a loopy grin at her. "You look so serious. Lighten up Sis, this is Cal-I-Forn-I-A, the place of our youthful indiscretions."

Carol forces a laugh, "Sorry, drifted away there for a second. Yeah, even though I come back sometimes, the natural beauty of this place never ceases to amaze me. This is nice Ed, sitting here talking with you, watching the boys enjoy each other."

"Did you say something to Josh?" Ed asks carefully. "Because he was actually speaking to me tonight."

Carol smiles mischievously, "I may have whispered a few suggestions into his ear. But Josh is the one doing all the work Ed. If he's making an effort to be nice, he alone deserves the credit. This trip may turn out, after all, to be just what he needed."

Ed lowers his head, tells her, "I said something really shitty to him today, to Josh."

Carol leans in, "What?"

Ed sighs, "This is gonna' sound awful, I know. But he was just making me so damn angry, so frustrated and with everything that's been going on, I just lost all patience with him and his sour attitude."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Carol assures her brother, "What'd you say?"

"Uh," Ed leans back, furrows his eyebrows, grimaces, "I basically told him that he needs to stop all his damn moping and get it together with Brad or…" Ed grimaces again, drops his head, " or Brad just might replace him with Ryan."

Ed blows out a slow puff of air. "I'm not proud of myself. About five seconds after the words were out of my mouth, I wanted them back."

Carol studies her beer bottle. He's right. It was a shitty thing to say, especially to a ten-year-old little boy. But who knows at this point. Maybe someone needed to say it, or say something like it. Perhaps not so cruel, perhaps in a way that didn't make Ryan the enemy or reduce his status to competition for Brad's affection.

At least Ed is admitting to saying it and in a round about way is seeking advice.

Sort of…she thinks.

"Well, it does sound a little harsh. I'm not sure if that's exactly the way you want Josh to see Ryan…as someone who could steal his little brother out from underneath him."

"I know, I know," Ed wholeheartedly agrees. "I screwed up. I'm gonna' make things right with Josh tomorrow, tell him how proud I am of him, with his behavior this afternoon and tonight. Hopefully he's had a good time too, just having fun, not worrying about fighting with everyone."

Ed locks eyes with Carol, nods with certainty at her, "I'm going to do things differently Sis, I swear I am, with all my boys, and with you. I told Josh that we should both go to counseling together and I mean it. And not just for the two of us. I'm going to take all of us, me, Josh, Brad and Ryan. We're going to make this family thing work. And I'm going to get myself some help. I need it. I see that now. It's taken me a long time, but I finally understand that I'm not dealing well with Sara's death and it's affecting my sons. I need to be a better father."

Carol sits silent, digests everything he just told her. Good, good, it all sounds good, appropriate.

But…something in the middle doesn't feel right.

Take all the boys to counseling.

All the boys…including Ryan.

"Ed," she says slowly, calculated, a stealth tiger, crawly slowly toward a relaxed, grazing antelope, "Catch me up real quick on the whole Ryan, counseling, family, thing."

He pulls his head back, observes her. All casualness vanishes.

Carol doesn't want to lose him, she's on to something, she can feel it. She smiles sweetly, tells him, "You've been so quiet about Ryan, Ed. We were going to talk about it later tonight anyway, right? The kids are playing, they're occupied. This is probably better than the hotel room, less confided. Hell, we don't even have to whisper conspiratorially. Have you been thinking a little more about him, about Ryan?"

She slides his bottle of beer to him, tips her own to her mouth, and takes a swig. Tells herself that she not a horrible person for taking advantage of her brother's semi-intoxication.

"It sounds like you're making some really good decisions about Brad and Josh. I'm proud of you Ed, I knew you'd ultimately do what's best for your boys."

Ed sips his beer, places it down.

Nods.

Carol silently sighs in relief. She can tell by his body language that his momentary state of red alert has been downgraded back to relaxed.

"I have been thinking about Ryan. A lot. More than a lot. More than e-mails and a summer visit Carol. I'm responsible for this kid. I'm responsible for making sure he's safe and protected and living in a stable environment. I know you think Kirsten Cohen is a model foster mom and maybe she is. But Sandy Cohen has a temper and is a control freak and I can't get out of my head that black eye Ryan is sporting. And you should have seen Ryan in the hallway today Carol. Sandy raised his voice and Ryan couldn't get into our hotel room fast enough. I think he's afraid of Cohen, he just does whatever the man orders, like Ryan's too scared to stand up for himself against the guy. And there's something completely unnatural about Cohen wanting to keep this kid that he's barely known for more than a few months. I'm wondering if maybe things have happened in the Cohen home that Sandy is afraid Ryan will tell me once this kid is out from under his controlling fist."

Carol blinks mouth wide-open at her brother.

What the hell? Where is all this coming from?

"And you know what?" Ed continues fervently, on a roll. Before she can stop him to even qualify half of the things he's already said, Ed tells her, "I had a dream Carol. I had a dream about Sara. And she told me, well, she didn't come out and say it in the dream, but I know what she was trying to tell me. I've thought a lot about this. She was telling me to accept Ryan into our family. Just take him in, like a present that you don't realize you're getting. And don't you see how ironic it is Carol, that I should have a dream with Sara in it? This is karma Sis. Coincidences like this don't just happen. Sara was pregnant when she died and now all of a sudden, out of nowhere, Ryan just appears, and I have a new son?"

Ed spreads his hands out. "Out of thin air Carol." He snaps, "I suddenly have another child. Don't you see how it all makes sense?"

She should say something, but for once in her life Carol Carden has nothing to add, nothing to say.

He's either drunker than she thought, temporarily insane, manic or delusional. Maybe all four.

Maybe just desperate.

Maybe still mourning more than Carol realized.

He should indeed start the counseling….like tomorrow morning.

But he's not that drunk and impulsivity can be a close cousin to both manic and insane.

She's willing to believe delusional.

"Ed, why did you invite me and the boys out here?"

She's so stupid. God, why didn't she see it coming the minute that she figured out who Ryan was? Ed may be delusional, but he's still the same guy who was promoted to major faster and younger than most people. Still the same guy who barely studied and coasted his way through high school.

Still the same guy who has always been way smarter than her.

"Ed, why did you bring the boys to California? This isn't a chess game. This is a kid's life. All these kids, your sons, aren't pawns."

Ed takes a sip of his beer, turns it upside down to show her it's empty.

"Everything's a game Carol. You just have to decide which side you're on."

He stands up to retrieve two more beers, leaving his older sister once again speechless.

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Kirsten agrees to lie down only if Ryan promises to wake her up exactly at midnight.

"I don't need you sick too Ryan," she tells him. "I don't want you worn out and coming down with something. You need more sleep than me and you have to function in the morning. I can kick back here with Seth. Catnap the day away if I need it."

He doubts very highly that Kirsten Cohen has ever catnapped. But he plays along, eager to do something to repay her for everything she has done for him and put up with since the moment Seth got sick and he got a new father.

Ryan nods an understanding and Kirsten and Sandy retire to their bedroom.

He yawns. Whether or not he stays up tonight has very little impact on his overall status.

He's already tired.

He's already worn-out.

He can't imagine how he's going to go to Harbor tomorrow and feign interest in school. Pretend to give a shit about math or ancient civilizations or fucking 16th century poets. He's got a little more on his plate than matching handbags and designer shirts.

Seth coughs, sits up.

His hair is arranged in every single direction made possible by Newton's Law of Gravity.

A few curls may be defying all laws of physics.

Ryan hopes like hell Seth won't ask who's winning, his hair or him.

Hands down the hair is kicking Seth's pitiful ass.

"How are you feeling man?" Ryan tentatively asks, not sure if he wants the answer.

"Does your new daddy have a service revolver?" Seth inquires, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could use a mercy killing."

"Um," Ryan waves his hand, "Maybe death isn't the best place to start. I could get you a cold drink. We could ease our way into euthanasia."

Seth puts his head in his hand, rubs his temple. "Ah, you brought the funny. We seriously need to work on your timing Ryan."

Ryan almost tells Seth he's sorry that his foster brother feels so lousy, but that sounds ridiculously lame. Instead he offers, "Let me get you something to drink or a Popsicle. I'm here all night, we can watch zombies or whatever you want."

"Is this the Atwood Olive Branch of Appeasement?" Seth asks.

"Pretty much, yeah," Ryan smiles.

"Touché with the zombies and Popsicles, Ryan. You know my Achilles' heels. Bring on the walking dead and frozen treats."

Ryan hesitates before exiting the living room, "Seth, if you feel better, we should talk."

"Are you gonna' actually say anything?" Seth asks, a hint of his previous anger surfacing.

"Yeah," Ryan nods.

"Great," Seth rubs his stomach, gingerly stands up. "You grab the movie, I'll take care of a body function or two and we'll meet back up in five."

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As she is falling asleep, Sandy tells his wife about his day of fishing with Brad and Ryan.

"You were right about the kids Kirsten. Ryan should know those boys. I'm a little ashamed of myself that it took a live, breathing Brad to remind me that there's more at stake than Ryan's address."

She kisses him, asks, "What did you say to Ed Carden tonight? I can't believe you even went over there. Ryan must have freaked out."

Sandy laughs quietly, "Let's just say that if he didn't start smoking again this afternoon, I think Ryan has safely kicked the habit."

Kirsten sighs. "God Sandy, what did you do?"

"Why does everybody assume the worst?" Sandy teases. "You and Ryan have more in common than I've given you two credit for. I was very good. I behaved myself. I was a perfect gentleman."

Kirsten rolls over, stares at him, deadpans, "I'll repeat the question Sandy, what did you do?"

He kisses her behind the ear, says softly, "Nothing. I didn't do anything Kirsten."

_Just reminded Ed that's there more at stake, than Ryan's address._

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Miraculously, Seth makes it back to the living room within the five-minute time limit.

Ryan cringes in sympathy as Seth slowly lowers his body back onto the couch, waits patiently for Seth to settle before he hands him an already dripping blue Popsicle.

"You know that saying," Seth asks, "the one about it must suck to be you?"

"Yeah," Ryan answers.

"Well, it sucks to be me. The mono sucks. My stomach sucks. Everything sucks. There is more suckage happening in this small space than in all of Harbor's unmonitored hallways."

"I…can't believe you said that," Ryan shakes his head.

"I can't believe you haven't noticed," Seth counters.

"I can't believe you are willing to admit you have."

Seth works on his Popsicle, Ryan on a comfortable segue. "Um, about last night Seth."

"Are you still thinking about leaving?" Seth cuts straight to the chase, concentrates on his Popsicle.

Ryan drops his head, "Yes."

"Why?" Seth asks.

One word.

A million reasons.

"Um," Ryan sits on the floor next to his foster brother, "I uh, there's these kids Seth, and this guy, he feels really bad. And it's not his fault, it's my mom's. And I'm thinking that maybe I owe it to him, cause my mom is the one who screwed up and I'm his kid and your parents, well, they never really meant for me to live with them. It was supposed to be like a weekend deal."

Ryan stares up at Seth.

"I'm trying to do the right thing, make the right decision. It's all…screwed up."

Ryan stops, breaks eye contact, "I'm…all screwed up and it's probably time for me to just leave. And now your parents won't have to worry about me living with my mom. I'll just live with this guy."

Seth finishes his Popsicle, sets the stick on the arm of the couch.

"What about me?"

Ryan doesn't respond.

"What about me? What about Marissa? What about Harbor? What about my mom…and my dad? Don't you like it here? Don't you like living with us? I thought…" Seth stalls for a second, swallows painfully, "I thought we were friends."

Ryan looks away and Seth asks again, "What about me Ryan? Don't I count? It's not my fault your mom screwed up."

When Ryan still doesn't respond, Seth raises his voice, "You promised to talk. Are you honestly expecting me to believe that you want to give all this up to go live in some fucking state that can't remember to pronounce it's last consonant? What? Corn for Marissa? Cows for me? Seriously Ryan, your reasoning is bullshit and I don't believe for one second that you want to leave."

Seth rubs his eyes, "God, I feel like crap. Could you have picked a **worse** time for a personal crisis?"

Ryan stares at Seth.

"You know what Ryan? You're sixteen. You live in Newport Beach, on a cliff, that overlooks the Pacific Ocean. You go to one of the best schools in California. You have a gorgeous girlfriend. You have your own house….next to a pool. You're the only kid that my dad has ever brought within fifty miles of his home. And, you are one part of the unbeatable combination of Cohen-Atwood. You can sit there and tell me that you want to cash it all in for Illinois and two little brats, one of which tried to kick your ass, but please, do not insult either one of us with by saying that you honestly want to go live with some dude whom you are still referring to as '**that guy**', cause' that…is the most ludicrous slice of this dysfunctional pie."

"Brad's not a brat," Ryan states quietly.

"Whatever," Seth waves his hand. "Sorry. But that kid has a family Ryan. He's already got a brother, evidently one that rivals your own 'punch first, ask questions later' philosophy. He doesn't need you fulltime. I do. And nothing you say is going to convince me that you don't need us."

Ryan's lack of anger or hostility or any real reaction to his words only fuel Seth's certainty that he's right.

Ryan doesn't want to leave Newport.

He maybe just doesn't fully realize it yet.

"Ryan. Promise me you won't make any decision until you run it past me, ok? I'm like the membrane on your nucleus of decision making. I only let the good reasoning in, keep out the stupid."

Ryan rolls his head, raises his eyebrows, "Don't say membrane Seth."

"Promise me," Seth ignores him, repeating the request until finally Ryan acquiesces with a quiet, "I promise."

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Ryan wakes up Kirsten, not because he wants to or because he thinks he can sleep, but because he gave her his word he would.

She thanks him, tells him to get some rest.

He goes through the motions, turning the pool house lights on and then off, waiting for a few minutes in the dark until he's sure she's out of the kitchen.

Then he slips out of the pool house, down the rocky path, onto the narrow strip of beach.

In Chino, the ocean was something reserved for summer.

In Newport, it's a daily occurrence and after living so close to it all these months, and smelling its salt everywhere, thick and heavy in the morning air, the waves with their reliable rhythm at night, Ryan can understand why Sandy begins each day with it.

The ocean never changes. It's a constant. Just like the run down buildings and hopelessness of the cities they both grew up in.

Ryan settles in the cold sand, glad he bothered to throw on a jacket.

"_Why_" and a million reasons.

Instead of sleeping, he lists them all in his head.

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To be continued……….


	28. Best of Intentions Chapter Twenty Seven

Author's note: hi guys Um…I really do have semi-valid excuses as to why this update took so long, but they all involve real life and well….yeah…..that's boring. So I'm sorry. But…it's a long chapter. That's good, right? And there's lots of the angst. That was worth waiting for…right? (Head down. I don't deserve any of you. But please…stay!)

I feel really bad if it's any consolation.

Thanks to everyone who bugged me to update. And no worries. This story will be finished. I would never start a story and not finish it. So don't lose hope.

**Crashcmb** is my 'running up the stairs, two at a time' Rocky hero. I'm going to create a new Hallmark holiday just for long suffering betas. Oh, and thanks **Jooey**…just because.

On with the drama…

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Twenty-Seven

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Monday 

With just a few hours of restless sleep and four previous fun-filled days of hell, Monday morning slams itself head-on into Ryan like a cement mixer into a truckload of squawking chickens.

When he stumbles into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, he's surprised to see Kirsten awake. He assumes she would have slept in after staying up all night with Seth. A quick glance in her direction causes Kirsten to say, "Don't worry Ryan, I got some sleep last night."

He nods, grabs a colorful ceramic mug from a cabinet.

"You, on the other hand," Kirsten continues, "look terrible."

Ryan grimaces, "Thanks."

Kirsten stands up, and walks over to him, hesitates and then tentatively brushes the hair from his forehead, feeling for any indication of a fever.

She ignores the stiffness her touch results in, asks him, "Are you feeling alright Ryan? You honestly don't look well."

"I'm fine," he dismisses her concern, "I just need some coffee."

Sandy breezes his way into the kitchen, sing-songing a chipper, "Good morning!"

Kirsten and Ryan stare at him like he's deranged.

"What?" Sandy holds out his hands in mock confusion. "It's a beautiful morning."

Ryan sighs and sips his coffee. Kirsten returns to her seat.

"You ok kid?"

Kirsten watches Sandy approach Ryan and mimic her own parental temperature check. No stiffness this time on Ryan's part. No forced acceptance of the attention. In a way, it's disappointing that Ryan is still so nervous with her. But it's good that Sandy has developed such a deep bond with the teenager. Seth's relapse yesterday has served as a temporary distraction from Ryan's issues and suddenly Kirsten's reminded that Ryan might not be living with them much longer.

Observing her husband and foster son together, it doesn't seem real, that Ryan may be leaving them. Without bells, without whistles, he's quietly become a part of their family.

One more boy, every morning, grabbing a bagel for breakfast

Four placemats on the dinner table.

Two sons.

"Well, you're not warm," Sandy comments to Ryan, "but you just don't look well."

"I said the same thing," Kirsten agrees over her coffee cup. "I hope you're not getting sick Ryan."

"Why don't you stay home today?" Sandy suggests. "Kirsten and Seth could probably use the company, and maybe it's better if you're close to home…since we're finding out the results of the paternity test this afternoon."

"I think that's a good idea," Kirsten quickly adds. "I'll call school."

"So it's settled," Sandy takes a gulp of his coffee. "Go back to bed kid."

"Wait," Ryan shakes his head, puts down his drink and picks up his backpack, "I'm fine. I want to go to school. I need to get Seth's homework and I have an assignment to turn in. I have to go. I'm already buried in English Lit."

He stops talking and looks back and forth from Kirsten to Sandy, "I want to go to school."

"Well," Sandy observes, "That may be the first time those words have ever been uttered in the Cohen kitchen."

Kirsten scrutinizes Ryan, "Are you sure you feel ok?"

He forces a smile, a lighthearted dismissal of her concerns, "Yeah, I'm just, you know…"

After a brief pause, Sandy jokes, "Well that explains it honey. He's just, you know…"

He reaches over and messes up Ryan's hair, "Come on kid, I'll give you a lift to school."

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Marissa waits for him at the top of the stairs, hugging her books. The instant she spots Mr. Cohen's black BMW, she excitedly skips down the steps. Ryan is barely out of the car before she plants a kiss on his lips.

She traces his fading black eye. He looks so tired. Summer calls it brooding but to Marissa, he so often just looks sad. But she's afraid to dig. Afraid to find out that this boy, that seems delivered to solve her problems, might have some difficulties of his own.

"Where have you been? You never called on Sunday. Did you get in trouble? Mr. Cohen seemed kinda' mad on the answering machine. Is Seth ok? Is that why you haven't called? He's not worse, is he? I mean, you're at school, so he can't be that bad, right?"

Ryan leans in, returns her kiss, puts a finger on her lips.

"Seth's grouchy but fine."

Marissa steps back, nervously smoothes at her short skirt.

"Sorry, it's just that you never called yesterday and…"

"Yeah," Ryan reaches for her hand, takes her books from her. "I'm really sorry about that. Things have been pretty crazy."

"I know," Marissa nods, "I just…if you would just call, I could help."

Ryan smiles at her, but he knows better. On her best days, Marissa can barely take care of herself. This morning she seems to be in a pretty good mood, thank God. He can hardly think straight as it is, between Seth and Brad and his mom and Carden and the Cohens. There's no room for Julie Cooper and her fucked up parenting. He doesn't have anything left for Marissa today.

Marissa.

He needs to tell her.

Somehow.

When they reach the top of the steps he says, "These weeks with you, have been…"

She saves him from his shyness, answering with a big grin, "Yeah, me too."

"Well, I just want you to know…" he winces, glances around. "That if anything happened…like if for some reason I left…it wouldn't be because of you."

Marissa stops all movement, stares at him.

"Why would you leave?"

Ryan drops his head, "No reason…I'm not…going anywhere right now. It's just, that if I did, it wouldn't have anything to do with you."

Marissa cocks her head, "Ohhkaay. Did something happen, with the Cohens? Oh God, you did get in trouble Saturday, didn't you? Ryan, I'm so sorry, it was all my fault that you overslept."

"No, no, shhh," he kisses her again. "It's not like that. Forget I said anything." He glances at his watch, reaches for her hand. "We should uh, get going."

Marissa nods, smiles hesitantly, nervously brushes a few stray hairs behind her ear.

When they arrive at her first period class, she hesitates before releasing his hand.

"I'll see you at English Lit, right?"

"Yeah," he assures her, returns the books.

She watches Ryan walk away, never taking her eyes off his retreating form until he disappears into the crowded hallway.

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Kirsten gently nudges Seth awake.

"How are you feeling honey?"

He throws her a disgusted glance that doesn't need vocal backup to deliver its message.

"We have an appointment at Dr. Demsky's in a few hours. I thought you might want to take a shower. Do you feel up to it?"

Seth growls and stands up.

Slowly.

Kirsten tries to stay positive, calls out to him as he drags his body upstairs, "I bought bubblegum flavored Motrin."

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Carol picks up her cell phone, flips it open, flips it shut.

Stares at it.

Open, shut.

Over and over.

She loves her brother.

Her loyalties lie first with family.

But Ed's revelations last night have left her with a chill she can't seem to lose. A confusion she's still trying to muddle her way through. She's so frustrated with her brother. He's been acting unpredictable this entire trip. And Carol needs predictable, can't function well without it, at least when it comes to human behavior.

She wonders to herself, do the Cohens even know what her brother is planning? Kirsten didn't mention it, at the beach. Surely she would have said something about Ed wanting Ryan to come and live with him and the boys.

Carol can't shake the feeling she has had since the moment she first spoke to Kirsten Cohen on the phone. There's more to Ryan and these people than an amiable living arrangement.

Ed's not seeing the big picture.

Maybe he's choosing not to.

She considers her brother's concerns last night, about Ryan's foster father. Physical abuse had never even entered her mind. Sure, in her opinion, the teenager earned his black eye in a fight, but Carol never suspected that it had been with Mr. Cohen. Ed's wrong about that. She's sure of it.

In Ed's defense, under normal circumstances, maybe his home would make a sensible alternative to Ryan living in foster care. But nothing about the current situation is normal.

Ryan's sixteen, not six, not ten. He's closer to grown than still growing. He's not a victim of the system. He's somehow survived it, without Ed, without Dawn. The kid has found a home on his own, with help from the very people that Ed is proposing removing him from.

She needs to talk to Kirsten. She needs to talk to Ryan. She needs to figure out who is right, Ed or her own gut instincts about the Cohen family.

Carol flips her phone open only to be startled by a loud rap on her hotel room door.

She sets the cell aside, takes a deep breath, tells the visitor, "Come in."

"Hi," Ed stands in the doorway, hesitant to enter. "Are you talking to me?"

"Of course," she answers tiredly. "Where are the boys?"

He brushes back his hair, takes a small step into the room, smiles a little bit. "Getting dressed. They're uh, well, it's wonderful Carol, they're getting along, it's amazing. Josh has been talking to Brad all morning. He even offered to run downstairs and get me a coffee. I know we have a long way to go but, I feel like I might finally be getting my little boy back."

"That's great Ed," Carol nods. She can't even fake enthusiasm, knows she coming off cold.

Ed eases his way in the room, "About last night Sis… I had a little too much to drink. I wanted to tell you about Ryan coming to live with me, really I did. I just maybe should have presented it a little better than I did last night."

Carol turns her head from him, feels her anger and bewilderment from last night building. "What are you sorry about Ed? Keeping me in the dark, taking me for granted, assuming I'm too stupid or trusting to even suspect your ulterior motives? Or do you feel bad about getting drunk and actually being honest with me?"

She hears Ed take a deep breath, moves further into the room.

"Ok, obviously you're still upset."

Carol folds her arms, laughs slightly to herself. "Not upset Ed. Disappointed. Unsettled. Concerned. I'm used to being upset with you Ed. Believe me, last night? What you were saying? We're past upset. Try disturbed. You're justifying uprooting this kid from his home partly because of a dream involving your dead wife. You're accusing Sandy Cohen of being an abuser with absolutely no proof. You have no right to do that Ed. You're not making any sense to me."

"You and your instant trust of the Cohens Carol. So this is back on me? I'm back to being the bad guy?"

"No," Carol shakes her head, "that's what you don't understand Ed. There doesn't have to be a bad guy. Not you, not Sandy Cohen. Not everything is black and white, good guys versus bad guys. Sometimes life is more complicated than that. This…Ryan…is going to be more complicated than that. You think Josh is a challenge? Let's call Kirsten or Sandy right now, find out what Ryan has gone through, if they even know the whole story. We lived next to Russell and Dawn and Trey for a year. You think things got better after we moved? You think the abuse we witnessed, heard, magically disappeared? Have you actually spent any time at all with that kid? He barely speaks Ed. He barely communicates. He doesn't look anyone in the eye. I've seen Ryan on three separate occasions and I've only seen him smile once. This is not an open and shut case of an abandoned child who's living a miserable existence and desperately needs you to save him. Ryan has a home Ed. Don't sit there and tell me you've had an adequate amount of time to determine the quality of it. This is a complicated…Ryan… is a complicated human being Ed. Even if he was actively requesting to live with you, I would have reservations."

Ed remains silent, staring at her.

"Is he Ed?" Carol raises her voice, speaks a little faster. " Is Ryan asking to live with you? Have you two had conversations I'm completely unaware of? Because if you have, now would be a really good time to tell me about them."

Ed flops his arms to his side, holds out his hands. "You said it yourself Carol, he barely says anything. He won't talk to me. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?"

Carol blinks at him, says pointedly, "Yes Ed, I have some insight into that particular behavior."

"Look," Ed says exasperated, "I have no idea how Ryan feels about any of this. That's why I'm wondering if maybe he feels like he can't talk to me, that maybe Sandy Cohen is influencing him, telling him to keep his mouth shut. At first, when all this started, Ryan wanted to get to know me, I know he did. He called me; he was making attempts to reach out. We were talking a little bit, until Cohen found out and put a stop to it."

Carol glares at her brother, "Yeah, I heard that argument last night Ed and I don't buy it. I'm a fairly good judge of character and I'm not seeing the heavy-handed control thing. Did you ever stop to think that maybe the Cohens are only looking out for Ryan? They don't know us. You showed up out of nowhere Ed. Nowhere. And now you're talking about having Ryan come and live with you? God, it's a miracle they've allowed us to see him as much as they have."

Ed purses his lips, his voice gaining in volume. "We're going around in circles Carol. You seem intent on accepting Ryan's place in a family that he's barely a part of and in case I haven't made my intentions perfectly clear, I'm taking this kid home with me, as soon as legally possible."

He folds his arms tightly, "How's that for communicating? Clear enough?"

"Yes, thank you." Carol stands up, "Very clear Ed. Everything's becoming very clear, including my role in all this. I'm going home Ed. I'm leaving California."

"What?" He asks stunned.

"Yes," Carol nods, determined. "How's that for clear Ed? I'm leaving. Bye. I'll stop by your room and tell the boys. Don't worry, I'll make something up that doesn't directly involve what a complete **ass **their father is being."

"Carol," Ed says her name slowly, deliberately, "Come on, don't be so melodramatic. Ok, I get it. You're upset I wasn't more forthcoming with you. You're right. I owe you an apology. I'm very sorry. From now on, complete disclosure, I promise."

"No," Carol shakes her head. "I don't think so Ed. We're not going to agree on this one and I'm not going to be a part of some rushed decision that may harm a child's well being so, I'll see you at home."

She walks over to her hotel door, holds it open for him.

"This is overdue Ed. I'd like to say that it's only about Ryan, but it's not. Ever since Sara's death, you've been moving further and further away from the guy that I've always known. I hope you follow through with that counseling thing. It's been hard enough losing Sara. I miss my brother. And Josh and Brad need you right now….they need their father."

He stands in the middle of her room, head down.

"Carol, I'm sorry. Please, just stay. We'll talk about Ryan. Maybe you're right about some things. I'll listen ok, I'll sit down and listen to you. I can't do this alone."

He sounds panicky, so different than just a minute ago, his entire demeanor switched instantly from self-righteous jerk to humble. Helpless.

In her head, he's a little boy again, begging for this and that. Sixteen and on his knees, hoping to guilt her car from her, eighteen, challenging her to come to California with him, nineteen and fumbling for the words to explain why he's joined the Air Force, thirty-six, a widower, waiting the entire day, waiting for everyone to leave, before finally sitting down at the kitchen table and breaking down.

"Ed…"

He looks up at her.

The facial expression, it's Ryan, when he lost Brad on the boardwalk. _"I'm sorry."_

God, what a mess.

She should stick to her guns, walk away, fly back to Illinois.

She's a jellyfish.

Defeated, she leans her head back against the open door.

"If I stay, do you promise to have a rational conversation with me about Ryan?"

"Yes," he nods.

"One in which you promise to listen Ed? Actually listen and talk about something besides what you think you owe this kid?"

"Yes." He answers, barely able to be heard.

"You'll talk about what is best for Ryan, even if it may be staying with the Cohens?"

He hesitates, then, "Of course."

She sighs, closes the door.

He tells her quietly, "Thank you."

"One single outburst, and I'm out of here Ed, I mean it, I've had it."

"I understand."

Ed looks around, composes himself, clears his throat.

"Um, I came to tell you something. Do you, uh, still want to hear it?"

'_What the hell?' she asks herself. 'Why not?'_

"Carol?" he asks tentatively.

"What is it Ed?"

"The paternity clinic called. They finished the test result early."

Finally, maybe this craziness can start to claw its way to some sort of sanity. Maybe it's the uncertainty that has been fueling Ed's unpredictable behavior. She knows what he's about to say, but still hearing it aloud causes her to catch her breath.

"The test was positive. Ryan's my son."

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Sandy clears his calendar.

Rachel tells him he's being unprofessional, leaving the office early.

He refrains from telling her to go to hell.

Seth is still sick, he wants to surprise Kirsten and help her take their son to the doctor. It doesn't make up for his absence during the majority of the emergency room drama Thursday, but at least it's a step in the right direction.

This afternoon, Ryan finds out the results of the paternity test. Although the outcome may be obvious, Sandy doesn't want Ryan to hear it alone.

So he and Kirsten will take Seth to the doctor and then he'll pick Ryan up from school and they'll go home and deal with the fallout together.

It may be the last thing Ryan allows them to do for him and Sandy has no intention of letting the kid down.

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His phone vibrates at the end of first period. Ryan sneaks a glance at it.

The paternity clinic.

His mouth goes dry, his heartbeat speeds up.

Shit.

He brushes back his hair. Fumbles to a standing position when the bell rings.

Makes his way down the crowded hallway, apologizes when he bumps into a girl so hard he nearly knocks her over.

He reaches his locker and shoves his books in it, absently grabs the binder and text he needs for next period.

He rounds a fairly secluded corner and presses the green send button.

Someone on the other end answers, asks him to hold on a second, they have to grab his folder, tells him, "The purpose of the previous call was just to alert you that the results of your paternity test are completed. Are you sure you'd like to hear the results over the phone, Sir?"

He doesn't think, just mumbles a reactionary, "Yes."

Thirty seconds later he has a new father.

Just like that and Russell Atwood is reduced to the man that sort of, kinda', raised him.

He knew this was coming but it doesn't make the news settle any easier. He desperately needs a cigarette. Shit, he only has five more minutes before second period. He shouldn't have called the clinic. He should have waited for Sandy.

Ryan hits himself on the forehead.

Fuck.

Why can't he ever listen to Sandy until after the fact?

Sandy said to wait for him.

He tries to calm himself down.

No big deal.

He already knew the answer, already came to his own conclusions that Brad's dad is obviously his dad.

He'll just put his head down and go to English Lit. and then, maybe, call the Cohens. Kirsten will let him come home. She didn't want him to go to school in the first place.

Twenty feet into his head down journey, he runs smack dab into Luke Ward and a few friends.

"Hey faggot. What, did Marissa already drop your sorry ass? Sorry but I'm not going to the homecoming dance with you."

Ryan inwardly groans.

His luck is beyond bad. He's the fucking poster child for bad luck.

_Poster child for Bad Luke. _

Seth would appreciate that one.

Luke's water polo and soccer drones laugh at his lame joke and Ryan cringes.

He steps around the taller boy, "Whatever man, I need to get to class."

"Hey, hold up there Chino," Luke fakes camaraderie. "You cut out of practice so quick on Saturday, I didn't get a chance to give you this."

He holds out a crinkled flyer, smacks Ryan on the chest with it. "Nice eye by the way."

Ryan glares at him and then snatches the flyer out of Luke's hand, turns his back to the group of teenagers, starts to leave.

"Aren't you gonna' read it?" Luke asks loudly, holds out his arms, turns to face Ryan. A few other Harbor students stop to watch the exchange. "They did teach you to read, in that other school you were in, right? It's cool man, if you need some help, one of us can sound out the big words."

He's such a fucker and Ryan would love nothing more than to level his sorry ass right here in the hallway. But he promised the Cohens to cool it with the fists and he's been learning lately that sometimes fighting just makes things a hell of a lot worse. He's so fucking wired that he's capable of breaking Luke's nose and not even this little high school shit with his stupid little movie of the week dialogue deserves a busted face.

"I have mine," announces one of the soccer flunkies. "I'll read my copy. I understand if he's too proud to admit he needs help."

Luke pulls the paper from his friend's hand, "Fuck it, I'll abbreviate. It's the Father-Son game Chino."

Luke struts up to Ryan, leans into his face, "You in? You can borrow Cohen's daddy, seeing as your own…" Luke stops, whispers, "Where is your daddy Chino? Do you even know? Does your momma….even know?"

"Fuck you," Ryan hisses back through clenched teeth.

The warning bell rings and bodies scatter.

"That's what I thought," Luke smirks. "See you at practice."

Ryan stands in the almost empty hallway, hyperventilating with unreleased hostility.

Who the fuck is he kidding, bothering with English Literature, bothering with any of it…with any of this?

He roars down the corridor, past his second period class where Marissa is waiting for him, slamming his textbook and spiral into a garbage can.

"Ryan?" In the distance he hears Marissa calling his name.

He ignores her.

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Seth decides his father is full of shit.

The Cohen men are not made of sturdy stock.

They are wimpy and delicate.

He's always suspected as much. The mono has confirmed his suspicions.

But still, he's taken an independent shower, dressed, combed his mop, put deodorant on, brushed his teeth.

It only took an hour.

Funny how times flies when you sit down every three minutes.

His cell phone goes off. Maybe Ryan is bored. Instead, Marissa is in full chipmunk mode, chattering faster than Seth's sick brain can keep up.

"What?" Seth asks.

Marissa reduces her information to, "Ryan, he took off."

"What do you mean, took off?" Seth rubs his stomach.

What in the hell is going on with Ryan now?

"I mean he left Seth, left campus. Luke said something to him, I don't know what, I wasn't close enough to hear and Ryan, he just took off."

"Well maybe he left to avoid a fight. I'm sure he'll be back for third period, lunch at least, it's tuna melt day."

"Seth," Marissa shouts his name, "Focus. Something's really wrong. Before school, he was talking about leaving and now he's gone. He threw his English Lit. books away Seth. Why would Ryan throw his books away if he was coming back?"

"He threw his books away?" Seth asks slowly, starting to grasp the urgency of Marissa's phone call.

"Yes," Marissa huffs impatiently.

Seth looks around his room. It's forty-five minutes away from his doctor's appointment. Crawling out the window is out of the question. He'll have to sneak out the back door.

His mom is so going to kill him.

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"Explain to me again why you just lied to pull me out of…" Summer stops talking, points backwards, "what class was I in?"

"We have to go pick up Seth Cohen," Marissa tells her.

"Ew," Summer balks, pulls Marissa backwards as she tries to backpedal. "Uh…no."

"Sum, please," Marissa begs. "Ryan left and I'm scared he's not coming back. He was all weird this morning, saying that if he ever left, it wasn't my fault, and now he's actually gone."

"Ok, so Chino flew the coop, Coop. Got it. But why do we have to get Seth Cohen?"

"Because Seth thinks he knows where Ryan is going."

Summer stops at her locker, grabs her purse and car keys. "I'm driving. You're acting all nutty."

"Fine," Marissa mutters in frustration, "let's just go."

"Is Cohen meeting us outside?" Summer asks. "If so, can I drive like a block away before he gets in my car?"

"Seth's at home. He's sick."

"Really?" Summer's softens, "Did anyone tell that guy with the glasses that he eats lunch with?"

Marissa pulls her along as they successfully reach Summer's car without being stopped by a hall monitor.

"What's wrong with Cohen?"

"I'm not sure," Marissa answers, puts on her seat belt. "It must have been kinda' bad, he was in the hospital for a couple of days."

Summer adjusts her rearview mirror and pretends not to be concerned. "Whatever. He better not get sick in my car. I just got it detailed."

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Ryan uses his thumb to get within a mile of Ed Carden's hotel room.

Fuck.

His anger and frustration and tension are all just simmering at the surface, bubbling like a frenzied emotional beef stew.

He goes into a convenience store and buys a pack of cigarettes.

"I don't fucking have my ID," he snaps at the girl at the counter.

"Are you legal?" she asks, backing up slightly.

"No," he states bluntly, stares at her.

"Whatever," the girl rings him up. "Your attitude sucks. It's your lungs."

As he is exiting the store, his phone vibrates. Seth's number is on the display.

What now?

He ignores the call and isn't surprised when a text message pops up inquiring, 'You left school? Dude…where are you?'

Marissa must have called Seth.

That's just super. Just what he needs.

More people in his face.

More people in his shit.

He just wants to go to sleep and wake up in last Thursday morning. Go to the comic book signing with a healthy Seth, go to the party, drink a few beers, spend some time with Marissa.

He wants his new life back.

He viciously kicks the sand and gravel that surround the side of the road as he navigates his way to the hotel. When he reaches the building, he doesn't go in. Instead he plunks himself down several yards from the entrance, sharing a ledge with a few white and purple pigeon droppings and a huge planter that appears to be moonlighting as an ashtray.

What the fuck is he doing here? Why didn't he just go to the Cohens?

Oh that's right, he's leaving the Cohens. Money and guilt and assholes like Luke that will never stop reminding him that Newport isn't for bastards.

At least not biological ones.

Shit, Luke doesn't even know about Carden yet. He assumes Luke knows that his father is in jail. Can't wait for the reaction to the newest revelation.

It's better this way, Ryan tells himself, if he leaves.

The Cohens will have the pool house reverted back to…a pool house… by next week. Maybe they can collect the remainder of Harbor's tuition. Seth will be fine; Marissa is his friend now, sort of. She'll look out for him.

Maybe.

When she's not drunk or self-destructive.

He doesn't want to leave Newport and he doesn't know how to stay.

He hates his mother all over again. For sleeping with Carden, for never telling him, for getting drunk and treating his life like a goddamn spinning carnival wheel. _Maybe I'll be a parent, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll let Ryan have a new life, maybe I'll get drunk and destroy it. _It wasn't enough that she came to the Cohens and embarrassed him in front of everyone. Only Dawn could follow that monumental fuck up with, 'Oh by the way, now that you're settled with this amazing family…'

Ryan rubs his temples, smacks the pack of smokes against his palm, and retrieves a cigarette.

Maybe he'll screw them all and all the guilt and all the responsibility and just keep walking.

Away.

To someplace else.

Where no one knows or wants him or doesn't want him or doesn't need him.

Just by himself.

And maybe one day, when Trey is released, Ryan will find him, and show him how to stay out of jail and the two of them can live together and pretend that their childhoods never happened. It could work. It could happen.

He could make it happen.

He spends a little time smoking, thinking, planning, remembering.

On his second cigarette he hears a quiet, "Ryan?"

He squints up in the morning sun. Carol Carden is standing there, staring at him, or more specifically, his cigarette.

"Hi," she says softly.

He looks away, takes another puff of his cigarette.

She holds out a cup of Starbucks. "I was just across the street, paying too much for a cup of coffee. Don't tell Brad, he'll never let me hear the end of it."

Ryan continues smoking, doesn't acknowledge her.

"Sweetheart, why aren't you in school?"

Something about her tone prevents Ryan from shouting in her face, 'None of your fucking business.' He thinks she might actually care about the answer.

"You found out the test results, didn't you?" Carol asks.

He nods slowly, inhales a long drag, takes his own sweet time blowing it out.

She reaches for the back of his arm, "Why don't you come up to the room? Do the Cohens know where you are? I doubt it. We'll give them a call. I'm sure if they found out you weren't at school, they'd be worried about you."

He gently shrugs her hand off but makes it perfectly clear that contact is a not appreciated.

Sits stubbornly.

"How's Seth?" she asks.

The question surprises him, catches him off guard.

He scratches the back of his hair, answers, "Um, a little better, I guess."

"Good," Carol smiles.

More silence and Ryan adds, "Kirsten is taking him to the doctor today."

"She strikes me as a really good mom," Carol comments, sits down uninvited next to him, lowers her head, trying to make eye contact with Ryan. "I enjoyed my visit with her on Saturday."

Ryan has perfected the art of elusive. He manages to avoid any optical interaction.

Carol waits a few painfully awkward minutes, watching the people traffic in and out of the hotel before finally asking softly, "Ryan, why did you come here? Do you want to see Ed?"

He doesn't offer an answer and Carol says, "Come on up to the room Ryan. Let me call the Cohens, make sure they know you're safe. Talk or don't talk, sweetheart. Whatever you want. Stay as long as you want and then I'll drive you home or to school."

Carol finally manages to lock eyes with him, "Do whatever you want Ryan."

He takes advantage of the planter, pushes his cigarette butt deep into the dirt and follows her into the building.

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Seth is sitting behind a prickly bush outside of Marissa's house when Summer's car pulls up. God, what is **she** doing here? Just great. He stands up, disengaging his pants from a few thorns that are trying to escape their home planet or home plant or…whatever.

He's hot. It must be a million degrees today. Why did he wear a jacket?

"Are you hiding Cohen?" Summer laughs snoottily, her face in that permanent, 'Duh, are you stoooopid!' look she always seems to have at the ready just for him.

"Under the radar, I prefer under the radar," he rambles as he grimaces and climbs into the back seat.

Summer taunts him, "Oh, is your mommy going to be mad that you snuck out of bed?"

"As a matter of fact yes," Seth nods frantically. "Uber pissed, thanks for your concern."

As they drive off, Marissa turns around and asks him, "Are you okay Seth? You look really…white."

"Pasty," Summer throws in.

"Yeah, uh, thus the phrase," he holds up two fingers in quotes, "home sick."

"Here," Summer shoves a plastic bag at him, "no barfing on the upholstery."

"Again, your concern is humbling," Seth mocks her, stuffs the bag under his leg.

"Whatever. Where are we going? Where do you think Chino is?"

"Um," Seth yawns, "I really can't tell you that. I mean I can tell you where to drive, but then you guys have to stay in the car."

Marissa stares at him, "Why can't you tell us anything?"

Seth scratches his hair nervously, "Well, because I don't think Ryan wants anyone to know."

"But I'm not just anybody," Marissa reminds him, "I'm his girlfriend."

"Well," Seth bobs his head back and forth, "then ask him yourself. But I'm not getting my ass kicked for breaking the bond of manly confidentiality."

"Oh please," Summer rolls her eyes, scoffs a laugh.

"Did I say something amusing?" Seth asks innocently, presses a button and lowers his window. It's so hot in the car. How can the girls stand it?

"Uh, delusional maybe," Summer quips, mimics Seth by stiffly moving her shoulders back and forth, repeating, "manly confidentiality."

"Superficial priss," he mutters.

"Comic book reading nimrod," she counters.

"You guys," Marissa whines, "stop it, I'm worried about Ryan."

Seth rests his shoulders on the inside of the car and swallows back an emerging threat. He reaches for the plastic bag and says a silent prayer to whatever god, gentile or Hebrew, that he doesn't humiliate himself, by depositing a piece of himself, in Summer's car.

They drive the rest of the way in silence.

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Kirsten stands at the end of the banister calling Seth's name. When he doesn't respond, she makes the trip up the stairs.

"Seth?" she looks in his room, peeks in his bathroom, searches the rest of the upstairs.

Walks back down the stairs slowly.

How could she have walked through the living room without noticing him?

"Seth…honey? We have to get going."

When she can't find him anywhere on the bottom level, she switches to fourth gear, high tails it to the pool house. He must be in there.

Ryan's iPod. The boys are always borrowing each other's things.

She doesn't bother to knock, opens the pool house door already starting with, "Seth, let's go…"

An empty room.

She shuts the door, a tidal wave of maternal frantic building.

His shoes, where are his shoes? He's been wearing the same pair lately, always leaving them strew somewhere in the living room.

Kirsten reenters the house and immediately sets about trying to find Seth's beaten up sneakers.

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Sandy pulls into the driveway grateful to see Kirsten's Rover still firmly parked. He was worried he may have left the office too late. He walks into the house and announces, "Honey, I'm home."

A frazzled Kirsten greets him with, "Well that's just great because your son's not."

"Not what?" Sandy asks confused.

"Not home Sandy," Kirsten's aggravation is obvious. "Seth left."

"Huh?"

"He's gone," Kirsten holds up her hands in frustration. "Don't ask me why but I've checked everywhere. His sneakers are gone, his wallet, his cell phone, and that damn jacket that you say makes him look like a refugee from an 80's video. Your son, who should be in my car on his way to the doctor's, has left this house."

_Your son._ Amazing how Seth suddenly becomes motherless whenever he pulls a stupid stunt.

"Oh come on Kirsten," Sandy finds the onslaught of information hard to believe. "He's sick, how far could he get? We hid his skateboard for God's sake. Where would he go?"

Kirsten holds out the phone. "I've tried calling his cell but he's not answering."

They stare at each other.

"I'll call Ryan," Sandy offers wearily, "maybe he knows something."

Kirsten stomps off into the kitchen.

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"Ed's down at the pool with the boys," Carol tells him. "They should be back pretty soon. He promised Brad more beach today."

Ryan nods, pulls up a seat next to the sole table.

"Who do you want me to call, Kirsten or Sandy?" Carol inquires.

Ryan cringes. "Neither one. It's cool."

"You don't think they'll worry?" Carol asks doubtfully.

"Not if they don't know I left school," he answers, sneaks a glance at her.

"Do you lie to them a lot?"

"Things are crazy, with Seth sick."

Carol smiles at him. He's smart, just like Ed. He understands distraction. "That didn't answer my question."

He raises his eyebrows at her, appears bored, completely uninterested in her concerns about his well-being. "No."

"Well that's good," she nods.

She takes a moment to study him. Ryan looks exhausted, worn out, his face is pale, bags under his eyes, his hair a little flatter, greasier then the other times she's seen him. He's jittery, little unconscious movements that seem to go against his usual reserved nature.

She'd hate to have seen him before the cigarette.

He's wearing a plain white v-neck t-shirt with a vibrant blue short-sleeved button up over it. The rich color makes for a strong contrast to the dull affect his body language is giving off.

Carol can make out goose bumps on his arms.

"Are you cold Ryan?"

He shakes his head a little.

Something gets his attention and he reaches into his jeans pocket, pulls out a cell phone.

Looks at her, "Um…"

"Would you like some privacy?" Carol smiles at him. "I'll step in the hall."

"No, I got it," Ryan mumbles, stands up, and heads for the corridor himself, closes the hotel room door behind him.

She reaches for her own cell, thinking she should give Ed a call, let him know Ryan is here, but decides against it. A little more time alone with the teenager and maybe she can get him to talk…about Ed being his father or the Cohens or himself or…something.

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Summer and Marissa both stare at Seth.

"Um…" Summer begins hesitantly, "uh, Cohen, are you sure you should be moving?"

"Oh yeah," Seth answers, hold up a finger. "No problem, just give me a minute."

He's holding his side, one foot out of the car, one foot in, practicing deep breathing exercises.

"That's what you said two minutes ago," Summer reminds him. "That bellhop guy is giving me dirty looks."

Summer points at the hotel, "What are we even doing here? Chino ran away to a Holiday Inn Express? He's losing his edge."

"Maybe I should go," Marissa suggests. "Just tell me what room. I'll make sure Ryan knows you didn't tell us anything. I just want to talk to him."

"No, no, no," Seth shakes his head. "He can't know you guys are here."

Summer manages to roll her eyes and shoulders simultaneously, telling Seth, "Well he's not even going to know you're here unless you get out of my car."

Seth loses patience with her nagging and spouts off, "I'm sorry, ok? Excuse me for having a little less energy than normal. I'm doing the best I can here. The mono is an ass-kicker."

"Ew, mono!" Summer recoils, slaps Marissa on the upper arm, "You didn't tell me Cohen had mono."

"I didn't know he did," Marissa shrugs innocently, rubs at her smarting appendage. "Seth, really, maybe you should wait in the car. Call Ryan, tell him to meet us down here."

Seth finally stands up. "No," he shakes his head, "I'm gonna' do this. I've got it covered. I'll be down in five with Ryan."

"Down on the ground," Summer mutters as the two girls watch him unsteadily enter the hotel.

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Ryan's not sure what to do. The display is showing the Cohens' home number. Could be Seth, could be Kirsten. He takes a chance it's the latter calling to check up on him, make sure he's ok. It's something she would do. He's surprised when Sandy answers.

"Ryan, hey, that was fast. Are you in-between classes?"

"Um…" Ryan stalls, trying to decide the best course of action. All out lying really isn't his thing but he's in no hurry to tell Sandy he's cut class.

"Well, any rate, thanks for calling back."

Saved from an answer by Sandy's impatience, Ryan waits to hear why he called.

"Look, I know this is going to sound absolutely insane, but can you think of any reason why Seth would have left the house?"

"Uh…" Ryan grimaces. He can think of a few.

He's gonna' kill Seth.

"Anything at all?" Sandy continues. "He's not here. Kirsten and I have looked everywhere, and his shoes, coat are gone. He's definitely broken out of Casa de Cohen. Kirsten is a basket-case. If you know anything Ryan, please, tell me. Yes I'm angry with him right now but I'm more concerned about his health."

"I um, I think…"

"Do you know where he might be?" Sandy asks hopefully.

Ryan brushes a hand through his hair. Inwardly sighs, takes a deep breath.

"I think he might be trying to find me."

"You think he's at Harbor?" Sandy qualifies.

"Uh…" Ryan stammers, "I'm…I'm not at school."

He holds the phone back a little bit, makes a doomed face.

Waits.

Sandy's response is so quiet that Ryan has to press the phone against his ear to hear it.

"Where are you?" Sandy asks.

Ryan rubs his eye. "Um…I'm at the guy's hotel."

"Ed's? Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"You already heard from the clinic, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"I assume the test outcome was positive that Ed is your biological father."

Ryan knows he's screwed up but he's in too deep to back out now. He maintains his monosyllabic response.

"Yes."

"I thought I told you to wait for me Ryan. Kirsten and I wanted you with us when you found out the results."

The disappointment in Sandy's voice is worse than any yelling or chastising he could have unleashed.

Ryan hears Sandy sigh, start a sentence and then simply say, "If you hear from Seth, please call me right away."

He hangs up before Ryan can answer.

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"That… was enlightening," Sandy walks into the kitchen.

"Did you find him?" Kirsten asks hopefully.

"No," Sandy shakes his head. "But not only is Seth MIA, Ryan's not in school."

"Where's Ryan?"

"He's at Ed's." Sandy says casually, loosens his tie. "We're doing a hell of a job today honey. We got one kid running around sick, blowing off a doctor's appointment and one kid truant. By the way, Ryan's already called the clinic. Ed's his father."

Sandy grabs a beer from the fridge, screws off the lid, tosses it on the counter, and starts to exit the kitchen.

"Sandy," Kirsten looks at her husband with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. "Where are you going?"

"Me?" he asks. "I'm done. No one listens to me, talks to me, respects my rules or limitations, seeks out my guidance, my years of finely honed wisdom. I give up. I'm gonna' go watch TV."

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Ryan stands in the hotel hallway a little stunned.

Sandy hung up on him.

Crap.

When it comes to Sandy, that's worse than being yelled at. The guy's a talker. It's what he does. So, to have Sandy just hang up on him like that, without saying anything is, well, very disturbing.

Ryan wonders just how much worse things can get when hobbling down the corridor comes Seth.

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"Ah, there you are." Seth comes to a stop next to Ryan, leans against the wall, holds his side. "That was a lot less complicated than I thought it would be."

"Seth," Ryan pronounces his name like a question, "What are you doing here?"

"Funny," Seth bobs his head, "Or actually, not so funny. There's really very little humor in any of this. Anyway, I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Ryan stares at him. Seth looks awful and perhaps just a tad delirious. Definitely unbalanced.

"Your dad called. You should go home."

"No," Seth holds up his index finger, points back and forth between himself and Ryan. "We. Use the correct pronoun Ryan, **we**…should go home."

Seth snaps his fingers. "Let's go. I can't promise how long I'm gonna' be upright."

Ryan continues to stare at him. "How did you even know where to find me?"

"Oh," Seth fans a hand at him, "That was easy. Mom left the hotel name and phone number on the fridge. I took a chance, which has paid off. Ok. Your press badge has been revoked; question and answer time is over. Let's go. The girls are waiting."

"The girls?" Ryan tilts his head, raises his voice in disbelief. "You told Marissa and Summer?"

"Please," Seth dismisses Ryan's concern, "And break the manly bond of confidentiality? No, I think not. I just needed a ride. They don't know anything. Well, Summer just found out I have the mono and considering the lip-lock action we've seen recently, I'm sure she's a little nervous."

"Go home Seth."

Seth folds his arms. Stares back at Ryan. "Not without you."

"I told you last night Seth, things are complicated."

"Yeah," Seth nods, "You also said you wouldn't do anything until you ran it past me." He stands up as straight as possible, centers in on Ryan "Actually, if we want to go for accuracy, you **promised** not to do anything."

Ryan drops his head.

How can he get rid of Seth without destroying their friendship?

He feels trapped. Getting the call at school, Marissa's clinginess, Luke in his face, Sandy's disappointment, Seth's pressure. Soon Carden will be back, with the kids, Brad's attention, Josh's hostility, adding another layer of intensity.

Ryan unconsciously starts tapping a fist against the side of his jeans.

Seth's voice is still scratchy, completely hoarse really, making his next words even more pitiful than the last.

"You promised me Ryan."

Ryan raises his head, "I'll be home tonight Seth, we'll talk about it tonight."

"Why did you throw your books away?" Seth asks accusatorily. "You're not coming back."

Ryan sighs, rubs his forehead.

He doesn't say anything, so Seth does.

"What the hell man? Marissa told me you threw your English Lit book away. You've been busting your ass since school started to get caught up in that class. Why else would you throw that stuff away unless you weren't planning on going back to Harbor? I'm sick Ryan, not stupid."

"Seth," Ryan says quietly, "I'm not going to fight with you. You shouldn't even be here."

"Well neither should you," Seth answers angrily.

"That's the whole point Seth," Ryan raises his voice. "Where the hell should I go? Where do I belong? At your house? Your dad is my lawyer, my fucking lawyer. With my mom? She left me, twice. Trey and my dad…" Ryan stops abruptly, looks out in space, laughs sarcastically. "Why not here Seth? Why not? It doesn't matter where I go."

_I…don't matter._

Ryan looks down, diverts his eyes away from Seth, puffs of air coming fast and short.

"Well it really sucks that you feel that way," Seth says quietly, "because it has always mattered to me."

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Summer forms an exaggerated kiss, applies a fresh layer of sparkly lip-gloss.

"God, where are they?" she whines at Marissa. "We are totally going to miss next period and I already had to skip that class last week because my step-monster left her purse in my car and I had to run home to give it to her because she just had her nails done and was too lazy to haul her almost original ass over to school to get it."

"Maybe something is wrong," Marissa answers the ramble, craning her neck to see if there is any sign of either boy.

"MAYBE?" Summer scoffs. "No maybe. This is all wrong Coop. There is nothing right about what is happening. I may die from kissing Seth Cohen…ew! And we're waiting for your boyfriend who ran away from school, to an economy class hotel, and now we're probably going to miss lunch and I totally heard that Holly was going to give Tonya a verbal bitch slap about buying the same dress and now we're going to miss that too."

Summer sticks her head out of her car window, huffs, "Where IS Cohen?"

Marissa sits back. "Something's definitely wrong with Ryan. Seth should be back by now."

Summer fishes eyeliner out of her purse and does a touch-up to an already perfect eye. As she is returning the make-up to her purse, she notices Seth making his way slowly to the car. He really does look bad. She and Marissa should never have taken him out of the Cohens' house, or the front of Marissa's house or…whatever.

Suddenly Summer feels guilty. Damn, she actually cares if Seth Cohen is sick. But like hell she'll let him know. She angrily flings open her car door to get out and yell at him for taking so long and hears a thud followed by a muttered but still very loud, "Oh shit!"

"Summer!" Marissa calls her name, her mouth wide open.

Summer looks around bewildered, leans out of the open door.

Oh crap.

Seth is lying on the ground, curled up, holding the left side of his stomach.

_Oops, my bad, sorry 'bout hitting you with my car door._

Summer searches for the right thing to say and settles on, "What the hell Cohen, what were you doing lurking by my door?"

"Trying to apologize for taking so long," Seth grunts out through clenched teeth. "Excuse me for not knowing you are training for a major weight lifting competition."

"Oh suck it up," Summer eases her way out of the car. "Don't be such a baby. It was just a little bitty bump."

"Yeah," Seth closes his eyes, "Jolly Green Giant style."

"Come on Cohen," Summer tries to help him into a sitting position. "I'm sorry, ok?" She huffs out an exaggerated, "Geez."

Marissa gets out of the car to help.

Keeping a steady pace, the girls assist Seth back on his feet.

"My dad is a doctor. Maybe we should stop by his office," Summer suggests. "I mean not even YOU should be this messed up by a car door Cohen."

"I think Summer's right," Marissa adds.

"I'm fine," Seth grunts as he tries to get comfortable in the back seat of the car. "This is nothing compared to my mom's wrath. Let's just go so I can get right to that fun fest."

Summer starts the car and Marissa asks quietly, "Was Ryan there?"

Seth stares at her, grimaces, fidgets in his seat. "Yes. He's not coming with us."

"What happened? Why did he leave school?" Marissa looks desperate for answers.

A sharp pain hits him and Seth leans over panting. Something is seriously wrong. His stomach has gone from an annoying bloating to all out pain. Shit. He just has to keep it together until they reach his house. He can't act like a wussy in front of Summer. He takes a quick, shallow breath and tells Marissa, "Ryan's just dealing with something. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it."

"But why didn't he come with you? Did you tell him I was here?"

Jesus and Moses. Can this woman NOT see that he is dying? The pain lets up a little and Seth collapses against the car seat, his eyes shut tight against the remaining agony. He's sweating and he's freezing. When he opens his eyes again, Marissa is still waiting for an answer, her image shifting. Oh joy, dizzy is making a return appearance.

"Yes," Seth says harsher than he means to. It's not Marissa's fault that both his best friend and his stomach hate him right now. "He knows you are here and he knows I went after him and he still wouldn't come. So I guess Ryan doesn't need either one of us right now."

His abrupt words chase Marissa off. She turns around and silently looks out her window.

Another sharp pain lances through his belly, stronger than all the others and Seth can't suppress an "Oh God."

"Where's your plastic bag Cohen?" Summer quickly asks, punching the gas pedal.

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Ryan calls with Sandy in mind but Kirsten answers. He tells her that Seth came to the hotel and assures her that her son is on his way home.

"Why are you at Ed's hotel?" Kirsten asks. "You shouldn't have left school without our permission."

Ryan considers saying nothing at all, but giving Kirsten the silent treatment always makes him feel guilty.

"I'm sorry. I just need to work some things out."

"We could help you Ryan. You shouldn't be doing this alone. Why don't you come home? I'll send Sandy right over."

He tells her no. Carol has offered to drive him back.

He mutters a "sorry about causing Seth to leave", a lightning fast "bye" and hangs up before she can argue with him about returning to their house.

He's so tired of trying to make sense of everything that is happening, everything that he is feeling. Maybe it's not too late to run out and catch Seth, go home to the Cohens, just accept their generosity and pretend that he has a right to be a part of their family.

Carol opens the hotel door.

"I heard some raised voices a little while ago," she says quietly, "I wanted to make sure that you were ok." She laughs nervously, "I wasn't eavesdropping, I couldn't make out any of the conversation."

"Seth was here," Ryan explains. "He uh, left."

"You guys are really good friends, huh?" Carol asks.

Ryan doesn't really offer an answer, makes a slight shift of the head that could be interpreted as a nod.

"I thought you said Kirsten was taking him to the doctor?"

Ryan stares at the floor, scratching an eyebrow, finally looks up at her, "I think he's gonna' be a little late."

Carol waits for more information but Ryan isn't offering any.

"Do you want to come back inside the room?" she asks carefully, still unsure of whether or not Ryan intends on sticking around or bailing. She's guessing that the encounter with his foster brother was a difficult one. He seems even edgier than when he stepped into the hallway. When she met Ryan, that night in Ed's hotel, Carol had thought he was eighteen or nineteen. Now he just looks like what he is, a confused sixteen-year-old.

Instead of repeating the question, Carol takes a chance and simply says, "Come on Ryan." She's mildly shocked when he follows her back into the room.

Nicely stated orders seem to be working, so Carol tells him, "Go ahead and have a seat at the table. Ed has some water in the fridge, I'll grab you a bottle."

She unconsciously finds herself screwing off the top of the drink. It's something she automatically does for Brad.

"Here you go," Carol smiles as she hands it to him, nods when Ryan answers with a polite, "Thank you."

Carol decides to lay her cards on the table. Ryan doesn't strike her as an individual who enjoys playing games or spending time wallowing through indirect bullshit.

"Ryan, I almost called Ed, to tell him that you were here, but I didn't."

Ryan glances curiously at her, plays with the water bottle.

"I wanted some time alone with you, to ask you some questions, get to know you a little better." She stares at him, studies him for a negative reaction as she asks, "Can I ask you a few things?"

He doesn't answer so Carol gently requests, "I need a 'yes' or 'no' Ryan. I don't want to do or say anything to make you feel any worse. I think you've dealt with just about enough shit this week."

Carol's use of a swear word snaps Ryan to attention, makes him uneasy. Woman like this usually don't talk like…that. "Um, ok," he answers tentatively.

"Thanks," she smiles warmly. "I appreciate it. I was, uh, just wondering how you're doing, living with the Cohens. I was really saddened to hear what has transpired with your parents. I may not have been their best friend in Fresno, but we all cared about each other. I'm so sorry your family has had…that they have fallen on such hard times." His head drops and Carol wonders if she has already gone too far. She offers, "I always liked your mother Ryan. Dawn was a sweet girl, so young when we lived next to her. I always saw a little of myself in her."

"Yeah," Ryan quietly scoffs, curls a lip, "she's real sweet. Mother of the year."

Looks away.

His pain is tangible and Carol wishes Ryan was more approachable. Her gut instinct is to put a hand on his shoulder, offer him some sort of physical comfort. But she doesn't know this boy and blood alone isn't enough to justify the violation of the unsaid borders he has so obviously constructed.

He just looks so much like her nephew, and she can never stand seeing Brad sad and unhappy.

"Hey, you know what Ryan? I'm an idiot. Let's rewind, go back to my original question. Are you doing ok at the Cohens? I just, last night….Ed mentioned that maybe…"

Carol stalls.

Ryan locks eyes with her.

"Ryan, has Sandy Cohen ever done anything to harm you?"

His response is instant, drops of oil on a heated pan.

Sizzling, scalding, pronounced.

"No. Never." Doesn't twitch or move his head. Maintains his stare.

"Ed thinks maybe he has."

"Well Sandy hasn't," Ryan says quickly, slows down to add, "I already told him that. He doesn't listen."

_Got that right sweetie._

Carol backs off. "Ok, that's good to hear. I told Ed I thought he was wrong about that."

Ryan's body relaxes a little. He reaches for another sip of his water. Carol searches for way to present her next impossibly touchy subject.

"Um, Ed also mentioned last night, that maybe, well, he let it slip that he had invited you to live with him and the boys."

She watches Ryan. He's moved from his water bottle to his wrist cuff, spinning it slightly, thumbing the snaps.

"Ryan, you probably think this is none of my business and maybe it's not, but...I just…I care a lot about my brother and his sons…and now that you are one of them…" Carol moves a little closer, reaches for the remaining chair, sits down on the other side of Ryan, finishes her thought, " I just want to make sure Ryan, that with all this happening, all of this...upheaval, that Ed understands and hears what you want Ryan. You're right, he doesn't always listen. Sometimes he charges ahead and then looks back. If you're not careful, he's going to end up making decisions for you, decisions that he himself may not have really thought through completely."

Carol smiles at him. "That's where I step in. I'm the spike strip to Ed's speeding car. I stop and make him listen. Do you need my help Ryan, making Ed listen? "

Without thinking she playfully pokes his arm, "I'm good at it, had years of experience."

Ryan gives the wrist cuff one more twist, looks up at her, doleful blue eyes.

At this moment she sees so much of Dawn in this boy.

_Standing at her and Ed's apartment door, crying, holding Trey on her hip, denying that Russell hit her but wiping tears off her face, asking if she can come in, for just a minute, no big deal. Can she just sit down for a little while? She's not sure where else to go, what else to do._

This child may now be living a life of more promise than his mother but he's inherited her lonely soul and it's visible through his eyes. She never knew how to help Dawn. Irony can be an astounding thing, years later, another Atwood, sitting with her. Does he know what he wants, what to do, where to go?

"Ryan, you're dealing with something no child should ever have to. Your family has fallen apart. That's a horrible thing. But if there's some saving grace in all that you have gone through, it's that people want to help you. That's good, right? That you have people who want to care about you? My brother is feeling so guilty right now about what happened, about the fact that he never knew you were born. It goes against everything he stands for Ryan. Ed is loyal and responsible. He takes care of his family. Knowing that he has a son whose life he's never been a part of is eating away at him. And I'm worried that he's looking for a fast solution to make it all better. To instantly fix things. Ryan, I know my brother. I've seen him take charge when he needs to. People listen to him. People do what he wants. But what Ed wants isn't as important as what you want Ryan. I want to make sure that my brother doesn't force his will on you. And he can…force his will. Once he makes up his mind about something Ryan, Ed can be pretty damn formidable."

_Oh that's just great Carol, formidable. Does he know what that word even means?_ Carol mentally slaps herself on the head. She's not being as clear as she wants to be. Ryan is just staring at the tabletop. God knows what's going through his head. She probably sounded like a rambling idiot. And who the hell is she, to be having this conversation with him. The poor kid is probably more confused now than when he walked through the hotel room door. Why did he leave school and come here? What is he looking for, what does he want? How much has Ed said to him, suggested to him?

She switches styles. This kid knows how to hide behind other's words. Knows how to get lost in their flow. She's beginning to think he counts on it. Relies on people giving up, moving on, not waiting for answers.

His answers, she needs to hear what he's thinking.

She needs to be even more direct.

"Ryan, do you want to live with Ed?"

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The tabletop is that bumpy glass and Ryan stares at the distorted image of the carpet through its surface.

Blurry.

Everything is blurry. No real corners, no real shapes, no real definitions, just blurry and jumbled.

In a way, he wants to answer her, tell her the whole truth.

He'd like to be in Fresno, with Trey and the man he thought was his dad and his mom and all their bullshit. Because no matter what, they were his family and he loved them and even today, given a choice, he'd rather be a part of them than what he's become.

Homeless, fatherless, motherless, brotherless.

But things are blurry.

He has men that want to be his father; a woman that he could pretend was his mother, two little boys to replace the brother that is locked away from him.

He has Seth.

He sort of thought that Sandy, and especially Kirsten, would smile and wish him luck and be thankful that he no longer has to live with them. But they don't want to seem to let him go any more than he wants to go.

Sometimes, when things got bad in Fresno, and his mom and dad were fighting, he would wish for a different family. Wish that somehow, his current family was a mistake, that he'd been kidnapped from a normal family, a normal mom and dad.

Funny, all those years ago, he was half right. Russell really wasn't his dad. There really had been a normal family somewhere that he could have, maybe should have, been a part of.

And now that Ed's here and wants him…all Ryan can think about is staying with the Cohens.

His childhood wish from the past may ruin his hopes for the future. And these little boys, his real brothers, may dissolve his relationship with Seth, his new brother.

Ryan knows that Carol is waiting for an answer, and she's been nice to him and he should at least acknowledge her question with some type of response. But instead he continues to stare through the glass.

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Seth has given up on trying to stay in a secure and upright position, choosing to lie on his right side, clutching his left side.

Trying to breathe.

When Summer first smacked him with the car door, the pains were sharp, running with bullet speed from up his side to his left shoulder. Now they are excruciating, covering his entire stomach. He can't get a full breath it hurts so badly. Marissa keeps glancing back at him like he's a jack-in-the-box, about to spring out of his skin when just the right tune is played.

Skin.

He's sweaty and cold. How is that possible?

"Summer," he hears Marissa say. "Something's wrong with Seth. I think you're right, we should take him to see your dad."

"No," Seth grunts out, considers sitting up to defend his position but gives up the instant a piercing pain grips his abdomen. He manages through puffs of air, "Just take me home, my mom already has a doctor's appointment."

The girls exchange skeptical glances.

"Uh, Cohen…seriously…you're freaking us out. I think this may be a little beyond a lollipop and sticker visit."

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Oh God.

Seth. Just. Wants. To. Die.

Why here? Why in Summer's car? Why now?

He hates his body. Stupid mono. Stupid weak Cohen physique.

What a magnificent not-stud he is.

After this, he'll be lucky if Summer even acknowledges that they go to the same high school.

He blinks several times before realizing that Marissa is leaning over him, her long body stretching from the front seat of the car into the back.

"Seth? Seth."

She waves her hand in front of his face. "Are you ok? I was calling your name. You wouldn't answer me."

"I think I'm gonna' be sick," he mumbles at her. Because why the hell not? I mean as long as he's embarrassing himself in Summer Robert's car by having a total health crisis, why not vomit into Marissa Cooper's, the head of the Harbor High Social Committee, shiny hair. Why not? Might as well make it a complete obliteration of his social life.

"Here Seth." Marissa is scrunched up in the foot space next to him, holding the plastic bag, tentatively reaching for his head to help him aim for the bag. When did she crawl all the way into the back seat?

Things start to seem not so right, like time is skipping ahead of him. Suddenly he's vomiting into the bag, can hear Summer say, "Oh gross," and Marissa chastise, "Summer, stop it. He can't help it. It's ok Seth."

Well, he supposes, if someone knows how to vomit with dignity, is sympathetic to it's effects on the human body, it's probably Marissa.

He doesn't bother to thank her because he's lost the ability to form words. Instead he curls up into a smaller ball. The pain is so bad it's affecting all his other senses.

It's all he can think about.

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"Ryan?"

She says his name again but doesn't repeat the question.

He puts his hands to his face, rubs his eyes, temples.

What a shitty day.

He should have stayed at school. Maybe he'll go back, punch Luke. At least it'll make him feel better.

"Do you mind if I go out on the balcony?" He asks.

"To have a cigarette?" Carol clarifies.

"Yeah," Ryan nods, avoids eye contact.

"I wish you wouldn't," Carol answers, explains, "Brad and Josh really are supposed to be here any minute and I just don't want them seeing you…"

"It's cool," Ryan dismisses her excuse with a wave of his hand. "I should be getting out of here anyway."

He stands up and Carol quickly joins him, asking, "Why? I mean you just got here, you haven't even told me why you came. You wanted to see Ed, right? I'll call him right now. Ryan, please, stay. It's not a big deal if you smoke. I mean, of course I don't think at your age, or any age for that matter, you should be smoking but…forget I said that. Go ahead and…"

He cuts her off, finding her rambling panic a little bit amusing, "No, I'm fine. I should just get back to school. Sandy and Kirsten are already pissed off at me for leaving."

He runs his fingers through his hair, walks to the door, "Thanks for the water."

"Ryan," Carol tries again to slow him down, "can I at least drive you?"

"Um," Ryan hesitates, tries to remember if he has enough money in his wallet for a cab. He's really not looking forward to hitching his way back to Harbor.

"Let me grab my purse," Carol seizes the hesitation. "I just need one second."

She reaches into a small sliding-door closet and Ryan pats the side of his leg with nervous energy he can't kick.

"Hey Carol, got two wet kids for sale," Ed announces as he swings the hotel room door open, Brad slung over his shoulder. He immediately spots Ryan, puts a kicking, giggling Brad down, extends his hand slowly, saying a curious, "Hi Ryan."

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"Summer, how much longer?" Marissa asks rapidly.

"We're like two minutes away," Summer answers. "Should I detour to my dad's office or go to the Cohens?"

"The Cohens," Marissa tells her, even though dealing with Mr. Roberts would be a whole lot easier than trying to explain to Seth's mom where they have been.

She's still worried about Ryan but Seth has her full attention. He's actually groaning, like as in, pain…groaning. Her cousin had mono a few years ago.

Marissa doesn't remember any groaning.

"It's ok Seth, we're almost there." She taps the top of his shoulder awkwardly.

As they pull into the gated community the Cohens live in, Marissa asks Seth, "We're at your house. Do you want me to go get your mom, or do you want to go in yourself?"

Seth processes her question. Certainly he can manage walking into his own house. Because….having his mom get him out of Summer Robert's car…is so not going to happen.

"Help me," he tells Marissa, hoping his request came off more as a command, but knowing damn well it sounded like a pathetic plea. He pulls at her arm for leverage.

The act of sitting up sends a new round of stinging pain and he leans against the back of the seat gasping for a full, pain free breath.

Seth can hear Marissa still trying to communicate with him, but he's done talking for now.

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"Hey, how are you?" Ed asks. "I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you had school today?"

"Um," Ryan bites him bottom lip, looks at the boys, tilts his head, bugs his eyes a bit, hoping Ed will catch on that he really doesn't want to talk, in front of these kids, about the fact that he isn't in school.

"Okay," Ed seems to interpret the clue. "Right. So, how about if the boys here grab showers and we all go out to lunch together. Are you hungry?"

"Ed, Ryan spoke to the clinic this morning," Carol answers for the teenager. "I don't think he's really all that hungry right now."

Ed nods nervously. "Right. Absolutely. Um, Carol…can you stay with the boys? Ryan and I are going for a…walk." He motions towards Ryan. "Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah," Ryan nods an agreement.

"You're coming back, right Ryan?" Brad asks anxiously, curves around his father's body, goes straight for Ryan's hand.

Grabs it.

Looks up at the taller boy.

"I have something to show you. Remember? I told you about it yesterday."

"We'll be right back Brad, right Ryan?" Ed asks.

It strikes Ryan as a little funny that Ed even bothered to ask. He's cornered. This guy damn well knows it.

"Yeah," Ryan shakes his head, assures Brad, "Just give us a sec."

It's enough for the boy. He breaks his contact with Ryan, shouts out to Josh, "Got first dibs on the shower."

"Whatever," Josh mumbles, starts to walk past Ryan but then hesitates, holding up his hand and muttering a quiet, "hey," to Ryan before passing.

Ryan raises his eyebrows, pulls his head back a bit, amazing that Josh bothered to acknowledge his presence.

"Let's go," Ed pulls him out of his thoughts, holds the door open for him.

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Kirsten walks into the living room, snaps the television off and informs her husband, "We should try calling Seth again. I am very angry with him right now Sandy and I'm worried and I would appreciate it if you would take the situation a little more seriously."

Sandy stands up, sighs. "What do you want me to do honey? He's sick, he'll come home, we'll yell at him, you'll reschedule with Dr. Demsky. Quite frankly I'm more concerned about Ryan."

Kirsten softens. Sandy's right. Seth will come home eventually.

Ryan may not.

Not permanently.

She starts to respond but the doorbell interrupts her.

Sandy heads for the foyer. "Did you lock the front door? That's probably Seth now. I cannot wait to hear the lame excuse he comes up with. I'm telling you Kirsten," Sandy reaches for the door handle, loudly tells his wife, "He's lucky he's so sick or I would kick his sorry a…"

Abruptly stops talking when Marissa is the one standing at the door and not his son.

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There's a tiny lobby, really just a few tables and chairs connected to a couple of vending machines and an ice maker, at the end of the hallway and Ed opts to stay on his hotel room floor rather than go down to the main lobby. He and Ryan settle into chairs before he asks the young man, "So, you spoke to the clinic, huh? How do you feel about that?"

Ryan glances at the ice machine, wishing that words came as easily to him as the freshly made ice, dropping out in mass when a button is pressed.

"I can't believe you came here," Ed smiles. "This is so great. I'm really sorry that you heard the news without me though. I kinda' wanted us to be together."

"_Wait for me," Sandy had told him. "I want to be with you Ryan." _

"I'm not surprised though. I knew Ryan, the minute I saw you, that you were my son. But now that it's official, we can start making things better. We'll figure out a way Ryan, to deal with this."

"_We could help you Ryan. You shouldn't be doing this alone. Why don't you come home? I'll send Sandy right over."_

"I want you to know that I couldn't be happier." Ed hesitates, "Well, I would have been happier if Dawn had told me…when you were born, but I can't change that. It doesn't matter now. We're just going to go forward."

Ed leans in close. "You in there Ryan? I wish you would talk to me."

The teen makes eye contact. No joy in Mudville. Ed realizes that maybe all out enthusiasm isn't the most appropriate protocol.

"Hey," he reaches out and grips Ryan's arm, says soberly, "it's going to be alright. We're gonna' make it ok. I wasn't there for you a few months ago when you needed someone, a father, but I'm here now and I want desperately for you to be a part of my life. And the boys' lives. Give us a chance Ryan, to be the family you've never had. I can do this. We…can do this. You, me, Josh and Brad. We can do this Ryan, we can be a family."

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"Marissa," Sandy greets her with a casual grin, "It's the middle of a school day yet here you stand in my door way. Why does this not surprise me?"

She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, cringes a little, and turns it into an awkward smile.

"Um, hi Mr. Cohen."

She gives him a small wave with a few of her fingers, shrugs helplessly.

"Tell me something Marissa. Kirsten and I are missing a son and Ryan evidently isn't in school. Can you help me with either one of those two problems?"

"Um," Marissa points her thumb in the direction of Summer's car, "Uh, Seth was with Summer and me. He's in her car. I don't think he feels very well."

"Ok," Sandy retains his forced smile, walks out of his house into the midday sun. "Thanks for bringing him home."

Marissa starts to follow Sandy to the vehicle but he stops her, suggesting, "Maybe you should wait in the house Marissa. Kirsten's in there. Grab yourself a cold drink before you head back to school."

Marissa immediately reverses her direction, frantically fanning her hands at Summer to join her.

Summer gets out of her car, gives a slight wave to Sandy and a very timid, "Hi."

"Summer, could you leave us alone a second? I'd like a word with Seth."

He sounds a little bit scary-pissed, reminds Summer of her dad when the American Express Gold Card bill comes in and they have company. A very controlled, 'I'm not going to lose my temper in front of other people' kind of scary-pissed.

Summer hightails it to Marissa's side, interlocks their arms, whispers, "Keep moving Coop. We don't want to be nowhere near here."

Sandy glances behind his shoulder, waits for the girls to disappear into the house and opens Seth's passenger door.

"What in the hell were you thinking Seth! You're mother is frantic with worry, you were supposed to be at the doctor's two hours ago, and instead you are cruising around with kids who should be in school? And don't even go into what I'm sure will be a riveting excuse as to why you had to sneak out of the house to track down Ryan because I'm way ahead of you buddy and I'm not buying it."

"Dad," Seth keeps his eyes closed, squirms with uncomfortable jabs of pain, and says quietly "I'm sorry."

"You know what Seth, sometimes sorry just doesn't cut it. Just for once, would it kill you to think of the consequences of your actions before you…"

Sandy suddenly halts the barrage. Something's wrong with Seth. His kid appears to be in a world of pain, as white and pasty as a clump of Elmer's School Glue with his arms wrapped tight around his mid-section.

Why the hell didn't he notice right away?

"Seth, son," Sandy changes his tone to soothing, "What's going on?" He places his hand on Seth's forehead. He's ice cold. Sweating, panting.

Jesus.

"Seth, does your stomach hurt? Worse? Sharp?"

Seth nods, "I'm sorry," looks up at his dad, glassy brown eyes searching for relief. He draws a quick breath, "I can't breathe."

Sandy whips out his cell phone, squeezes his son's shoulder, "Take it easy Seth, I'll be right back," dials 911, talks to the dispatcher as his rushes towards his front door to get Kirsten.

To be continued……..


	29. Best of Intentions Chapter TwentyEight

**Author's Note:** I am a horrible person. I was stuck. I'm sorry. Lots of people e-mailed me and left reviews encouraging me to get the next chapter posted. I am very grateful for the support….I should have answered each one of them individually. I am so very sorry this update took so long.

Thanks to **Fred** and **Jo** for taking the time to read thorough this chapter for continuity and such. Huge thanks to **Crash aka Jonah**, my beta, who spent hours on this super sized meal deal. I still tinkered after she finished betaing. Please forgive any glaring errors. They are my fault. It's a long chapter, but the length felt appropriate. Hope it reads quickly.

Thanks for sticking with me.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Twenty-Eight

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Sandy, an arm around his wife's waist, hovers over the paramedics as they kneel on the driveway, examining Seth. He listens intently to everything, every exchange, every clue, every syllable between the two medics.

Everything they are saying to, and about, his son.

"Seth, does it hurt to breathe…or do you feel like you can't breathe at all? You are breathing sweetie, even if it doesn't feel like it." Of the two paramedics, the woman, Angela, has done most of the talking. She was the one who finally coaxed a reluctant Seth out of the girls' car and onto the gurney, finally got the teenager to worry less about who was watching and be more concerned with what was happening with his body.

"It hurts," Sandy hears Seth whisper, his eyes closed and his face pinched in pain. His son is almost drained of all energy, reminding Sandy of a balloon in the final stages of deflating.

"Ok," Angela softly pats Seth's arm. "I'm going to give you a little oxygen to help, alright? Try and relax, take deeper breaths, slow down your breathing." She turns to her partner. "Jeff?"

"I'm on it," Jeff answers, carefully adjusting the oxygen mask over Seth's mouth as he trades places with Angela. She stands up and continues the conversation she started with the Cohens when she first jumped out of the ambulance.

"When exactly was Seth at HOAG?"

"Thursday, I brought him in late Thursday afternoon," Kirsten interjects quickly. "They told us it was mononucleosis. But he felt terrible all weekend. I knew something wasn't right. I should have brought him back to the hospital, but I didn't want to overreact. We had a doctor's appointment today. I shouldn't have waited. I should have brought him back yesterday."

Angela writes a few of Kirsten's comments on a small, hand-sized spiral and assures the distraught mother, "Obviously this is the first time your son has been in this much pain. I wouldn't beat myself up over 'what ifs'. We'll transport him to the hospital and let the doctors figure out why he's experiencing this much discomfort."

Without looking up, Sandy observes quietly, "It's his spleen. The hospital told us what to look for. This is exactly what the doctors warned us about."

"It may not be his spleen. That's a really rare complication of mono. Did he fall, come in contact with anything that could have ruptured it?" Angela inquires, kneeling back on the ground to assist Jeff with inserting an IV. "The ER will need to know."

"I don't know," Sandy shakes his head. "He hasn't really spoken since I called you guys. You've gotten more out of him then I have."

He glances down uneasily, grimacing as Seth reacts to the new pain of having a needle go into his arm.

"Um….," from across the driveway, Summer gets everyone's attention. The worried teenager stands huddled next to Marissa, nervously twirling the index finger on her right hand, with the thumb and index finger of her left. "I'm …um, I'm really sorry you guys. I think this is all my fault. I hit Seth with my car door, right on his stomach. He fell down. This all started when I hit him. I'm really sorry." Summer looks like she is about to cry. Frowning, she adds a soft, "I didn't see him. It was an accident."

"Oh hell, this isn't your fault," Sandy says consolingly. "Seth knew better than to leave the house today. As sick as he is, he had absolutely no business running around with you kids."

Angela ignores Sandy's input, instead zeroing in on the details provided by Summer. "Was he complaining, before you hit him, about pain? How long ago did this happen?"

Summer shakes her head no, but it's Marissa that answers the question. "No, I mean, Seth obviously wasn't feeling well before Summer…I mean…the door hit him, but afterwards, he was really in pain. It was different, after he was hit." She bites her bottom lip, shifting from side to side, "It happened about an hour ago, maybe a little less."

She tells the Cohens, "I'm…we're… really sorry, we didn't know it was this serious. Seth said just to bring him home."

Sandy's main concern is Seth, but it's obvious that the girls are feeling accountable for his son's condition. They both look miserable, on the verge of tears, and Sandy feels a parental responsibility to calm the flustered teens down before he and Kirsten leave them alone to accompany Seth to the hospital. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the female paramedic kneel down beside Seth. He takes a second before returning his full attention to his son to remind Marissa of his earlier words to Summer. "It was just an accident, Marissa. You didn't force Seth into the car. I'm sure everything will be fine."

Sandy watches as Angela lifts Seth's shirt up to his neck and presses down slightly on the upper left portion of his abdomen. The recoil is immediate, with Seth kicking his right leg up and down, the heel of his sneaker pounding on the gurney.

"Ok, sorry sweetie," Angela rubs Seth's arm, most likely trying to distract him from the pain she's causing. "That smarts, huh? I won't do that again."

His eyes squeezed shut, Seth shakes his head up and down, apparently grateful for the promise of less externally inflicted pain. Sandy frowns at Seth's discomfort and tries not to concentrate on the fact that he's never seen Seth like this, and quite frankly never, ever wants to see his son in as vulnerable position as this again.

This is awful to witness.

This is every parent's nightmare.

"Jeff, we've got abdominal rigidity and pronounced guarding in the upper left quadrant. We need to wrap this up."

Her partner agrees with a quick, "Yep," as he hands the IV bag off to a Newport police officer that has responded to the call.

Sandy glances warily at his wife, wondering how she's handling seeing Seth like this.

With the paramedics' actions seemingly more deliberate and brisk, Kirsten must sense that things are getting more intense, urgent. She cringes, hugging her midsection, her head turned away from the paramedics' ministrations, not watching, as Angela cuts a smooth path through the middle of Seth's shirt, once again exposing his thin chest. Jeff finishes a quick check of vitals, reporting to his partner, "BP's 100 over 52, pulse is 120 and thready, respirations 28 and shallow. Temps 101.7, skins dry to the touch with tenting. We should start a second line."

"Let's do it in route," Angela answers as she begins to secure the various safety straps around Seth's lanky frame.

"Sorry 'bout this," Jeff tells the teenager as he tightens the last belt. "I know it's uncomfortable. Gotta' do it, standard procedure."

Seth whispers something and Jeff leans in close, listens intently, and answers, "Just a little while longer, just 'til' we get to the hospital. They'll give you something for the pain there, ok? You're doing great Seth. I know you're hurting. I'm going take off now, be your chauffeur. Angela's gonna' take good care of you."

Maybe in an attempt to break the anxiety that is permeating the situation, Jeff winks at Sandy and Kirsten, "Angela's way better than me. I'm just around to do the manual labor and driving."

As Jeff stands up, Sandy's first instinct is to rush for the gurney, assist the two paramedics with lifting it onto the ambulance. It doesn't feel right to him, watching these two people contribute everything to his son's care, while he stands idly by. But they're trained professionals, used to doing this kind of thing and move quickly, loading Seth into the back of the vehicle before Sandy can even make an attempt to help. The Newport policeman hands off the IV bag to Angela as she climbs into the back of the ambulance. Jeff turns to the Cohens, informing them, "I can take one of you."

Sandy doesn't hesitate, nudging Kirsten forward, towards Jeff. "Honey, you go. I'll be right behind you. I'll find you and Seth at the hospital."

If someone has to drive this afternoon, better him than Kirsten. As it is, the worry over Seth is killing him. Sandy can't imagine sitting in the ambulance wondering if his wife is driving safely to HOAG.

Kirsten wipes away a tear, "Ok." She gives her husband one last anxious glance as she opens the passenger door of the emergency vehicle. "I love you."

"Everything's going to work out," Sandy catches her eyes with a series of decisive nods, "I promise."

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Ryan feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he can't take anymore, anyone else, picking away at him. The guy just got done giving him a huge fucking guilt trip in the hallway, Marissa wants him back at school, Sandy's pissed he went to the hotel, Kirsten's disappointed he didn't go to the house, Seth's angrier than Ryan has ever seen him and Ryan is simply exhausted trying to explain himself to everyone. Without even bothering to see who his latest caller is, he pushes down the 'end' button, cutting off power to the phone.

One thing at a time, one person at a time.

He's already at the hotel, so he might as well deal with his 'new family' first.

Expressionless, he re-enters Ed Carden's hotel room, an almost tangible trail of electric tension following in his wake.

"I'm gonna' go grab a shower," Ed tells Ryan, "then we'll finish talking, all right? I just threw a lot at you Ryan, plenty to think about. So, let's give it a few minutes, ok?"

Ryan doesn't even bother to respond to Ed's proposal. It doesn't matter what he thinks. The dye's been cast. It's entirely too late to turn around. He's shut out Sandy, Seth, and by default, Kirsten.

He's already told Marissa goodbye.

He stands in the hotel room devoid of feeling, too drained to even care anymore, about where he is or whom he's with, or where he's going.

"Ryan," Brad's quiet voice disrupts Ryan's thoughts, forces him to shake his head, clear a small path for possible verbal communication. "Can I show you my surprise now?"

So still, so calm.

Ryan's never seen the little boy move so little or talk so softly. He watches Ryan with careful reserve, big blue eyes waiting for acknowledgement.

"Brad, sweetie," Carol moves in from the balcony, watching Ryan closely from the corner of her eye. She tempts the child with her most effective weapon, "Let's leave Ryan alone for a second. You, me and Josh, what do you say we go grab some ice cream?"

"I'll stay here with Ryan," Brad quickly answers, continuing his cautious observation of the older boy. "I'll be quiet." He moves a little closer to Ryan. "I won't bother him."

"I'll go with you," Josh responds to Carol's offer, reaches for his shoes, seemingly oblivious to the strained atmosphere that Brad has picked up on. He slips on his sandals and waits for Carol to join him at the door.

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Carol studies Ryan.

Something's different about him. There's an unpredictable vibe about his person, as if the stressed out boy who walked out of the hotel room a few minutes ago has returned an empty shell.

Or the eye of the storm.

She can't read him, can't really tell what's going on with him. He looks so tired, even more worn out than when he first arrived, unannounced, an hour or so ago. His black eye is fading into yellowish-green, but it's only accentuating how hollow his eyes look. It's barely past lunch, and although she guessed earlier when Ed offered to bring them all out that Ryan wasn't hungry, Carol's wondering now if a decent meal isn't exactly what the kid needs. Maybe she could convince him to eat something and then get some sleep. It's usually an effective combination with Brad or Josh.

Ryan's still just standing there, silent, not interacting on any level.

He's so good at withdrawing, and she remembers from her first meeting with him, how very well the teenager can disappear even when he's in plain sight.

Ryan clears his throat, glances at Brad and then looks up at Carol through haphazard bangs.

"Um, chocolate chip."

Carol blinks, confused for a spit second and then realizes that Ryan is placing an ice cream order.

"Me too," Brads chimes in, breaking into an instant smile, "but make mine mint. And I want mine in a cup. And a double dip, please, Aunt Carol. Do you want two dips too Ryan?" He looks up at the older boy, smiling eagerly, clearly relieved that the teenager seems a little less tense.

"That's fine," Ryan answers. Staring at Carol intently, he tells her, "Brad can stay with me. It's cool."

"All right," Carol nods enthusiastically, reassured slightly at Ryan's small attempt at normal conversation. Thank God for Brad. And it is Brad, Carol has no doubt, that has caused Ryan's willingness to pretend that this is just an ordinary afternoon of an ordinary day and not, what she is sure, must be one of the most upsetting afternoons of his young life.

"I'll be right back, Ryan," she promises, opening up the hotel door. Josh rushes ahead of her, out of the room. Carol assures Ryan on her way out, "Remember Ryan, I want to make sure that your opinion is heard. I'll be back in a few minutes and then you can tell me what you want to do with the rest of your day."

Before he can answer her, Brad is pulling at his hand, steering Ryan towards the room's sole table.

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Ryan is still getting used to the fact that Brad grabs his hand whenever he wants.

He's not used to it, people just randomly showing him physical contact. He not used to holding people's hands. Marissa does it once in a while, and Ryan still has to suppress the urge to pull away. It's getting easier, the better he gets to know her, the more comfortable he is with her, and he hopes she never picks up on his hesitation. But that doesn't mean, internally, it's not there.

He forces himself to clasp a little tighter to Brad's hand, because the same as with Marissa, Ryan doesn't want to hurt the boy's feelings.

When they reach the table, Brad points towards a sketch and Ryan immediately recognizes himself in it.

A wifebeater and jeans.

The ocean, the waves, him and Brad.

Josh, alone on the shoreline, watching them.

"That's us Ryan," Brad beams proudly, "at the beach on Saturday. I drew you a picture of us."

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Angela continues to talk to Seth in a soothing voice, updating him on her actions in an attempt to keep the teenager as relaxed as possible.

It's an impossible task, she knows it. Who in the hell can chill out when a stranger is unzipping your pants?

"We're just going to loosen these up a little bit, ok, Seth? Give the doctors some wiggle room to examine your stomach."

She decides not to bother cutting the jeans off. She recognizes the brand as expensive and besides, sometimes, when there's no blunt trauma, the nurses can salvage some of the clothing.

"I'm going to hook you up to a monitor, sweetheart. It won't hurt a bit."

He's chalky, grey, not responding other than an occasional moan and painful grunt. Despite the elevated temp and hot, dry skin, he's shivering, slight tremors cascading throughout his body. Angela is starting to become concerned that what she thought at first glance was a routine run may turn pretty damn critical, pretty damn fast. Her patient is clearly losing ground.

In an effort to elicit something from the distressed teen, she casually asks him, "How old are you Seth?"

She knows the answer already. But it's been a while since he's spoken and she wants to hear his voice, make sure shock isn't rearing its ugly head.

When he doesn't answer, Angela raises her volume, leans in closer to him. "Seth, open your eyes. How old are you?"

The eyes stay clenched tight but he grinds out an answer, whispering through the oxygen mask, "Sixteen."

"My son is thirteen," Angela prattles, trying to fill the silence as she begins sticking the electrode pads to connect the ECG monitor. Seth's heart rate and rhythm instantly appear on the display screen, the frequent beeps providing a reminder of the boy's rapid heartbeat. It's too fast, registering at 120, but it's at least steady and a normal rhythm.

Moving on to the next task, Angela alerts the teenager, "I need to start another IV line, Seth. You're going to feel a little stick in your left hand, ok? You're dehydrated; it'll help you feel better. You're being a great sport about all this, Seth." He gives a slight nod in acknowledgment as she prepares to start the second IV. Angela hangs the new bag of fluid above Seth's head, watching as it sways with the movement of the vehicle, keeping in unison with the other IV bag.

There's nothing else for her to do, so she continues her efforts to reassure the stricken young man, informing him, "We're almost there sweetie. Just another minute or two."

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The ride to HOAG comes to an end as Jeff adeptly backs the ambulance into the waiting bay. The doors fling open and Angela and Jeff swiftly go about the task of wheeling Seth into the ER.

Kirsten, unsure of her place in the frenzied activity, scrambles out of the front seat of the ambulance and shadows behind the gurney, rubbing her forehead and trying not to have an all out stress attack. Riding in the emergency vehicle has only heightened the anxiety swirling in her stomach. All she could do was listen to the female paramedic lead a one-way conversation with Seth. The medical jargon left her confused and feeling out of control. Now things are rushing at a breakneck speed.

Kirsten's surprised when the gurney reaches the emergency room doors that she's allowed in, but none of the medical team seems too concerned about her presence. She recognizes a familiar voice and turns to see the female doctor who treated Seth on Thursday. Holbrith, Kirsten recalls, that was the doctor's name. She watches as the young physician briskly enters the area where Seth's gurney has come to a stop.

Dr. Holbrith mutters to Angela, "Last name is Cohen, right?"

The paramedic nods. "He was admitted here last Thursday. Parents report he was discharged Friday with a diagnosis of mono."

"Yeah, I know," Holbrith reaches for Seth's wrist, glances at the monitors, tells a nurse, "Sara, we took a CAT-Scan on Thursday, go track it down for me please. And page Dr. Hughes, see if he's free. He was one of the attendings."

Doctor Holbrith's all-business manner is a sharp contrast to last Thursday's more laid-back persona, stroking Kirsten's internal panic to a new level. She scrambles awkwardly to stay out of the way as several more of the hospital staff hurriedly join the team.

"Get these straps off please," Holbirth instructs. The doctor orchestrates Seth's move to a slightly larger ER bed. Once freed, he immediately attempts to curl over to his right side.

"Severe guarding in the upper left quad," Angela updates Holbrith. "Quite a bit of rigidity as well. I've got confirmation that he was hit in the stomach, about an hour ago."

Holbrith manages to coax Seth to return to lying on his back, apologizing as her probing of his belly causes the teenager additional pain. Seth's feeble attempts to escape the doctor's actions, by pushing her hands away, come to a halt and he lies quietly, eyes clamped shut, puffing in and out. Kirsten's not sure if he's still having trouble breathing or just trying desperately to regulate the excruciating pain he's experiencing.

"Seth, my name is Dr. Holbrith. I treated you on Thursday. I was the one with the big needle, hard to forget. Are you hurting anywhere else besides your stomach?" He doesn't answer and the doctor repeats his name, frowning slightly when the boy still doesn't respond to her question. "Seth, can you tell me where you are?" She waits a moment and then gives up on her patient, asking Angela, "Was he alert in route?"

"Little bit," Angela answers. "He's not nearly as responsive as when we first answered the call."

Holbrith folds her arms, glances at Kirsten from the corner of her eye. "Ok, I want fresh vitals and pictures from the neck down. Find a portable unit; let's not mess with moving him. Set up for a lavage in case things don't hold steady long enough for the x-rays. Get an ultrasound in here and somebody call down to surgery, tell them we need a consult ASAP. Jarrod," Holbrith turns to a young resident standing next to her, "let's see what we can do about getting him cooled off and push five milligrams of morphine, that might ease the pain enough to increase his level of alertness. I'll get the mother up to date, be back in a sec."

Holbrith signals Kirsten over, smiles slightly, "Why don't you let Seth know you'll be in the waiting room. Just work your way around everybody, they'll clear a path."

Kirsten hesitantly excuses herself past several of the busy medical personnel, finds a small opening at the head of the stretcher, and tries like hell to ignore the fact that people are stripping the remainder of her son's clothes off.

It's unnerving in ways not describable, seeing strangers' hands all over her child.

She's the guest here and fast wearing out her welcome, expected to leave Seth alone and unprotected amidst this chaos. What can she possibly say to him?

She leans over the bed railing, whispering, "It's going to be fine, honey. I'm going to step out for just a minute while they help you feel better. They're going to take very good care of you, Seth. Your dad and I will see you in a little while. We'll be right outside. Don't worry about anything." She kisses a hot cheek; brushes back strands of sweaty, disorganized hair. Seth opens his eyes, but it's clear that he's barely aware of anything except the struggle his body is engaged in.

God, she was so angry with him earlier today, she was ready to kill him when she realized he had left the house. How could she have forgotten the frenzied events of Thursday afternoon so quickly and the feelings of intense fear associated with it? The promise she made to herself that day, the bargain, that if Seth were all right after Thursday's scare, she would be a little more patient, a little more tolerant.

"Mrs. Cohen," Holbrith says her name and Kirsten nods in acknowledgement, backs up slowly from the stretcher and follows the doctor out of the ER.

"Unfortunately, I think things are going to have to move fairly quickly," Dr. Holbrith tells Kirsten as they exit into the hallway. "I know this is overwhelming. In all likelihood we're looking at some sort of rupture of your son's spleen. Percentage wise, it's an unusual complication, but it can happen with mononucleosis. I'm a little unclear of how the injury happened, but I understand a blow to his stomach was involved. We need to do some x-rays in case something else is going on in his abdomen. We'll also perform an ultrasound, possibly a CAT-Scan if we can keep his vitals steady, to confirm the ruptured spleen diagnosis and determine, to the best of our abilities, how much bleeding is occurring. I don't want to throw too many details at you at once, but basically, if Seth's spleen has been compromised, we're going to give him a blood transfusion to try and replace some of the blood he's lost as well as administer some medications that are intended to halt the internal bleeding. But the medications can only do so much. Depending on the damage to his spleen, surgery may be needed. In the meantime, we'll do some cooling measures to get his temp down and continue to push IV fluids to try and get his pressure up. He's fairly stable, that should buy us the time we need to conduct the tests I've ordered."

The doctor places a hand on Kirsten's upper arm, offers a compassionate expression, "If his pressure continues to drop, I may have to do a more invasive procedure to determine how serious the bleeding is, but for right now, let's assume his body is going to cooperate with us. Dr. Hughes from pediatrics is on his way up, as well as a surgeon. As soon as the three of us know the absolute direction we're headed in, I'll get back to you."

Holbrith glances around Kirsten, "Is your husband here? Should we call someone else to join you?"

"Sandy's on his way," Kirsten mumbles, still trying to process the reality of the doctor's words. How the hell can this be happening? Seth should be at home on the couch, complaining and playing video games. Even though deep down she knew better, Kirsten was still holding out hope in the ambulance that there was a simple explanation for what was happening to her son. Internal bleeding was her biggest fear and the last words she wanted to hear.

"I know this is difficult, hang in there," Dr. Holbrith suggests before disappearing back into the ER.

A nurse approaches Kirsten and asks, "Can I show you to the waiting room?"

Kirsten accepts the offer and politely requests that the woman keep an eye out for Sandy and usher him to the lounge when he arrives.

It's a fairly large area, much different than the waiting room Kirsten spent time in during Seth's stay in the isolation ward. Several families have already set up camp in a few corners. They all glance at Kirsten as she finds a chair and settles in. A haggard looking woman around Kirsten's age, maybe someone else's mother, gives her a tired, sad smile.

She sits in complete silence for a minute, trying to steady her shaking hands, staring straight ahead.

Sandy's on his way. She just has to hang on a few more minutes.

She's not alone.

She doesn't have to do this by herself.

Kirsten remembers Thursday afternoon and Ryan, standing solitarily in the driveway, as she drove off with Seth, leaving Ryan by himself instead of taking him with her.

It's all happening again, Thursday's nightmare revisited.

Seth rushed to the hospital; Ryan's separated from them instead of with them.

She digs in her purse for her phone.

Minutes later, after trying Ryan's cell several times with no luck, Kirsten retrieves Carol Carden's cell phone number. Carol will help. She may barley know the woman, but she's sure that Carol will bring Ryan to the hospital, to her and Sandy, where he belongs, the way it should have been on Thursday.

And the three of them will wait together, as long as it takes, for Seth.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Summer and Marissa loiter in the parking lot of Harbor.

"I can't believe we came back to school," Marissa announces, making absolutely no effort to get out of the car.

"I can't believe I may have killed Cohen," Summer says quietly, seemingly stunned. "Sure, I admit it, it's kind of fun to be cruel to him, but, I swear, the almost killing…not gratifying at all."

"You didn't kill Seth," Marissa tries to reassure her friend, holds up her hand in a slight wave of retrospection. "Ok, maybe hospitalized him, but the Cohens are really cool people, I'm sure they'll forgive you."

"Oh, God," Summer moans, drops her head into her hands, her long black hair completely obscuring her face. "I'm a monster."

"We need to do something, not just sit here. Find Ryan, go check on Seth, something. I can't go back in that building," Marissa points at school, "my brain will explode."

"We should definitely go make sure Ryan knows about Cohen," Summer agrees to the suggestion of blowing off Harbor. Looking up, she adds softly, "Coop, seriously, I'm freaking out here. Maybe we should just go straight to the hospital. I know Mr. Cohen told us to go back to school, but this is crazy. Like we give a shit right now about anything but our boyfriends."

"Boyfriends?" Marissa whips her head around, stares intently at Summer. "Did you just call Seth Cohen your boyfriend?"

"I meant your boyfriend," Summer backpedals, stammers, "your boyfriend…and his friend….boys that are friends."

"Whatever," Marissa teases, trying to ease Summer's mood, "You so like Seth Cohen."

Summer looks away, turning her face the opposite direction of her best friend. "What if I really hurt him Coop? This is totally not right. I'm like Carrie evil. What if I start killing everyone at Harbor one by one?"

It takes Marissa a minute to realize that Summer has silently started to cry. She leans over and puts her head on Summer's shoulder. "Listen Sum, it's okay. Seth was already sick. You didn't do anything wrong. You're not evil. Let me try calling Ryan again, maybe we can look for him real quick and then we'll go make sure Seth is all right."

Marissa lifts her head up, reaches out and pushes a clump of Summer's hair that is clinging to her wet face, back behind her ear.

Summer sniffs miserably and struggles to regain her composure.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan should be used to someone waiting for him to offer blanket reassurances about something they've done.

Seth does it all the time.

But Brad is different than Seth. He actually waits for Ryan to say something instead of just glossing over the desire for Ryan's input. In the time that Seth would have moved on, tired of waiting for Ryan to link together the sentences required for meaningful feedback, Brad stands patiently waiting for Ryan to respond, give him some kind of opinion about his drawing.

"Um," Ryan falters, "this is uh," he waves at the picture, "that's great man."

"Really?" Brad perks up in response to the positive comment. "You like it? I drew it for you. You can take it home."

"Thanks," Ryan flashes what he hopes passes for a smile. It's really a very good drawing. The kid has talent. But Ryan's mind is miles away from having the focus to genuinely appreciate it. He's tired but wired. He wants to collapse and sleep for a day straight, and he wants to run as far and as fast as he can, pounding out all his pent up frustration and doubt on the hot sidewalks.

"I'll show you a secret," Brad whispers conspiratorially, yanking Ryan's attention back to the boy. Brad places a finger on the picture. "See that? That's my mom."

Ryan squints, leans in close to the illustration, and can barely make out a small figure standing in the distance.

"I always put her in my pictures, 'cause that way she can see what I'm doing." Brad gazes up at Ryan, asks, "Do you think that makes me weird?"

Ryan stares back at the smaller boy, blinks slowly to buy himself some time.

Shit.

_Words, words, words._

He hates the expectation of them and he hates the power of them and he hates his inability to master them.

Sandy would know what to say. Sandy wouldn't be too freaked out to answer, afraid of saying too much of the wrong thing, or not saying enough of the right.

"Um," Ryan glances back at the picture and wonders what it must be like, to really, truly not have a mother. Because as bad as his mom may be, she ain't dead, at least not physically. Eventually, she always shows back up.

Brad's still waiting so Ryan scratches his eyebrow and offers, "It doesn't matter what people think. You shouldn't let people's opinions bother you, ever." He's such a hypocrite. Assholes like Luke and their words get to him every time, even though he tries so hard not to let them.

His answer seems to satisfy Brad, who responds with a casual, "Ok." He grabs a pencil lying next to the picture and excitedly tells Ryan, "You know what? Look." Brad makes an addition to his picture, drawing in a minute black dot on the sun. "That can be for your mom. Get it? Dawn…sun. Now your mom can see what you're doing."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Your cell phone is ringing," Josh tells Carol.

Her brain is slugging along, weighed down and moving in molasses after the dizzying events of the past few days. Carol puts one foot in front of the other, but she's not paying much attention to the task at hand. Instead she's concentrating on Ryan and the surreal morning she has spent with him.

Even though she hardly knows Ryan, she's worried about him because he's family now and worrying about family comes naturally to her and besides, anyone can see that the kid is a mess and overdue for a crash.

"Aunt Carol?" Josh says her name again, points towards her purse. "Your phone is going off."

She wonders what the hell is taking place upstairs, in Ed's room, as she and Josh walk to the ice cream shop across the street from the hotel. Maybe she should have stayed with Ryan.

Yes, she definitely should have stayed.

But she wanted to give the teen some time alone, get the boys out of his hair for a minute, give him some time to think, to breathe.

That plan failed miserably.

Now Ryan is trapped in the hotel room with Brad and in a few minutes, when his shower is done, Ed.

"Aunt Carol!" Josh yells her name, waves his hand in front of her face. "Your phone is ringing."

Carol snaps to attention and fishes around her purse for the small cell. She flips it open quickly, inquiring a rushed, "Hello?" and motions for Josh to stop walking.

"Carol? It's Kirsten Cohen."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy's so very sick of HOAG's constantly full parking lot and circling for a damn parking space. He's had enough of this hospital for a lifetime. He doesn't want to walk into it, repeat Thursday's nervous march down the white halls, searching for his wife and ill son.

Panic.

It's almost a blinding panic that he's feeling.

It wasn't this way, Thursday, when he first arrived at the hospital. He hadn't understood Kirsten's franticness then. He had chalked it up to a mother's overreaction. But now he understands, now he knows what it feels like to walk through a hospital, distressed, wondering where your child is and who is with him and whether or not they are taking the time to reassure him and tell him he's going to be alright and help him not to be afraid.

Sandy takes a short breath, his heartbeat mounting, as he gets closer to the emergency room. He tried calling Kirsten's cell as soon as he parked the car, but was immediately directed to her voice mail. Sandy assumes she's in the ER waiting room, but God only knows where she could have ended up in the time took him to get through traffic, and arrive at HOAG and secure a parking spot.

"Sandy."

He hears his name, and turns to find Kirsten standing just outside of the large waiting room entrance, her arms around her waist.

"Where is he, honey?" Sandy asks, even though he knows the obvious answer.

"In the ER," she points a shaky finger in the direction of closed doors. "They um, they wouldn't let me stay," Kirsten apologizes, starts to cry, "I wanted to stay with him Sandy but they wouldn't let me."

Sandy pulls his wife into a hug, lays her head against his shoulder. He waits a minute for Kirsten to calm down a little before asking, "Did you get a chance to talk to anyone? What did they say?"

Kirsten nods, tells him, "It was the same doctor from Thursday. She thinks it's his spleen and that there's internal bleeding. They're running some tests to determine the extent of it." Kirsten spins her hand, says helplessly, "I don't remember everything she said. I'm sorry honey." She fumbles with the last of her words, "I'm sorry, I know that you were depending on me, and now I don't remember everything the doctor told me."

Sandy strokes her hair, consoles Kirsten. "It's ok honey, I'm sure someone will be out in a minute. They'll tell me everything. You were there for Seth as long as you could be, that's the important thing."

Kirsten nods into his shoulder, pulls away, looks off into the distance, hugging herself with one arm as she sniffs and wipes away her tears with the other. When she looks back at Sandy, she tells him quietly, "Sandy, he must be terrified. He was in so much pain, I don't even think he realized I was with him."

It's Sandy's turn to simply nod, because, after all, what can he possible say?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brad and Ryan sit on the edge of one of the hotel room beds, Ryan pretending to watch the younger boy playing his Gameboy. As he interacts with the game, Brad narrates all his moves, which surprisingly, is not an annoying distraction, but is actually providing a decent amount of noise for Ryan to process his own thoughts.

He's worried about Seth's uncharacteristic anger, Marissa's hurt feelings, Sandy's disappointment, Kirsten's dejection.

He's worried, always worried, that his mom might be found dead somewhere or that Trey might get erased in prison. He's been too long separated from his dad to even remember how to care about him.

He's worried about Ed being a part of his life and that Brad is becoming too attached and expects him to be something he's not, or that the other kid, Josh, might, for some reason, hate his guts.

He's worried that he might give up on himself, stop trying to figure it all out, and run away from it all, and really, truly be on his own.

All alone.

And wouldn't that just be the Atwood thing to do.

"Hey," Ed says quietly, emerging fully dressed from the bathroom. "How are you two doing? Where are Carol and Josh?"

"They went for ice cream," Brad answers without looking up at his father, his legs swinging in reaction to whatever is happening on the video screen.

Ed nods, motions towards the balcony to Ryan.

Ryan gets off the bed and wordlessly follows Ed outside. He slides the glass door shut slowly, catching a last glimpse of Brad, still sitting on the bed, mesmerized into a Nintendo coma.

"So," Ed leans against the balcony railing, starts out hesitantly, "have you had any time to think about…what we talked about?"

Ryan smirks a little to himself. He loves how this guy always uses the word 'we'.

Fuck.

Nothing about any of this has involved 'we'. It's been all this guy, every time, talking and talking and talking, until Ryan's head usually ends up spiraling. It sort of does the same thing with Seth. Seth sometimes makes him dizzy until he zones him out. But this is different. With Ed, Ryan knows that he has to pay close attention, 'cause everything out of this guy's mouth seems to make things more and more complicated and disjointed.

"Ryan?"

Ed says his name, lowers his head so he can angle his gaze to meet Ryan's downcast one.

"Are you listening?"

This guy is so clueless, Ryan thinks to himself.

Sandy knows, Sandy understands. Sandy knows that he's always listening. Sandy realizes that even if he doesn't show it, he's still always listening.

"Yeah," Ryan finally answers Ed, still not offering any eye contact.

"Good," Ed nods enthusiastically, "that's great. Listen, so, I admit this is all very sudden and no doubt extremely unsettling, so, if you need us to, we could slow things down a bit. I could arrange for a few more days out here, contact my attorney in the mean time, and see about maybe setting up a temporary guardianship with the state of California."

"What about the Cohens?" Ryan mutters, 'cause even if he ends up going anywhere with this jerk-off, he's gonna' at least give the Cohens the respect they deserve.

"Um, yeah, sure, ok, of course," Ed fumbles with an answer, "Of course the Cohens will be involved…I mean…as much as they should be. To be honest though, Ryan, all they are to you are foster parents, and they don't really have any rights over you, other than to make sure you are safe while you're under their care. But legally, they aren't really a factor in this equation, especially since they have had you such a short time."

Ryan keeps his head down but unconsciously clenches his fists, a move Ed must pick up on because he scrambles to cover himself, adding, "But, I know, Ryan, how important the Cohens are to you. So we'll be sure and keep them posted, everyday if you want, on how you are doing. Ok? We'll allow the Cohens some input, I promise."

How very fucking nice of him, thinks Ryan.

God, what the hell is he doing here? It's renegade sperm versus Sandy, and so far, although Ryan doesn't want to completely admit it to himself, Sandy is definitely kicking the sperm's ass.

The first day he met Sandy, Ryan felt a connection.

He's known this guy for several days now, and still, despite the mutual genes, he's feeling nothing, zero, zip, towards this man. Maybe some contempt, but that would take a certain amount of effort on his part, and Ryan can't seem to work up the energy for any emotion. He understands, though, what his mom must have seen in this guy when she was having the affair with him. He must have been a welcome balance to Ryan's unpredictable, irresponsible dad. This guy seems to have a constant and steady flow of what direction everyone around him should be moving.

"Ryan," Ed says with an uncomfortable, small laugh, "Buddy, can you at least talk to me a little bit? Are you always this quiet? Doesn't any of this mean anything to you? You have a brand new family, aren't you even a little bit excited? I thought you came here today because you wanted to be a part of us."

"_We've all talked about it. And we want to be your legal guardians. We want you to be part of the family. If you want to be..."_

It feels like such a long time ago that Kirsten said those words to him, as she and Sandy sat with him the living room. That was the last time Ryan remembers feeling excited. So excited he thought his heart would burst out of his chest. And he remembers asking them if they were sure about permanently allowing him to live in their home, because he couldn't believe that it was actually happening, that these people wanted him.

That was the last time, maybe the first time, he remembers being excited about being a part of a family.

Ryan stares dully across and through Ed, into the street below.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth is vaguely aware of what is being done to him. The pain is much more tolerable, that he knows for sure. He's high as a freakin' sky high kite, or at least he feels high, if this is what high feels like. Before his recent hospitalizations, the closest he's come to taking drugs was an accidental double dose of Benadryl in the sixth grade.

Once again, he's reminded of how very choice the IV drugs can be.

People are putting their hands in and on places of his body that he's not even sure if, over the years, he's ever managed to touch. He's come to the conclusion, based on the current violations of his person, that he's either being molested or that he's at the hospital.

He's going with the hospital theory, because, well, that's less freaky.

"Seth?"

A woman says his name and Seth blinks several times, deciding whether or not he actually wants to open his eyes.

He makes a decision and clamps both eyes tightly shut.

He can feel an oxygen mask on his face. He's having easier time breathing and figures it must be the drugs.

Another voice instructs him, "Seth, open your eyes, Seth. You're at the emergency room in HOAG. Do you remember what's happening? Open up your eyes and talk to us, Seth."

He knows why they keep repeating his name. They want him to wake up. But it's grating on his nerves, because it's annoying, hearing your name over and over. It reminds him of when he was younger, being ridiculed on the school playground.

"Seth Cohen?"

Oh good God, they've tagged on his last name. He can't take multiple rounds of "Seth Cohen," so he barks an exasperated, muffled, "What?" just to stop the constant bugging.

"Oh, hello," answers a surprised voice. "Can you open your eyes?"

Seth complies, although he wishes people would stop tugging at the blanket and prodding all over him because when he does manage to open his eyes, he really doesn't want to see himself naked.

And he is sure, most unfortunately, that the naked is a most definite. His chest feels colder than the rest of him and he can feel the blanket pushed down to the very edge of his waist.

Could this be any more awful? What with the pain and the naked and the people doing things to him and, shit, that's right, Summer witnessed most of it.

He hopes like hell she wasn't around for the naked.

He opens his eyes and sees a white blur of a human being looming over him.

"Seth, it's Doctor Holbrith, from Thursday."

Ah, the bodacious doctor lady.

"Seth, I'm going to perform an ultrasound. See if we can figure out why your belly is acting up."

"That'd be just awesome," he slurs, having no clue as to what in the hell she is talking about. "Can I have more drugs?"

"Is the pain still bad?" The doctor asks.

"Not really, I just like the drugs," he answers lethargically.

Dr. Holbrith laughs quietly, "Well then, I think we'll hold off additional medication for a little while, ok?"

"Whatever." Because really…at this point, seriously…whatever.

He hears someone yet another faceless voice declare, "Pulse is 114, pressure 110 over 60, respirations 22, temp 101.4"

The doctor glances down at Seth, watching to see if he's listening and answers with a reserved, "Let's hang another unit of whole blood, see if we can up his pressure and keep things stable long enough to get this done. I'd feel better knowing specifically what we are dealing with."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth thinks a little time may have gone by, he's not sure, maybe he dozed off waiting for the test thing, but he wakes up fully when something is pressed against his stomach, causing him to flinch when a small amount of pain breaches the firewall of drugs.

"Easy," Dr. Holbrith says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "This will be a little uncomfortable but quick. I promise"

The thing rolls around on his stomach, leaving little echoes of pain in its path. Seth slides around a bit, agitated and unhappy with the sudden reappearance of somewhat intense pain. Someone places two hands on both his shoulders, bracing him to a firm position. It must be a guy. A strong smell of cologne momentarily distracts him.

Another round of pressing and Seth can't help himself. He fights the shoulder guy, wiggles his midsection.

"You have to lay still, Seth," the doctor tells him authoritatively.

And isn't that just damn easy for her to say.

A harder push triggers a flash of pain that engulfs his stomach and Seth barely has time to warn the room, "I'm gonna' to be sick."

He's rolled to his side, the oxygen mask whisked off and as he vomits, all he can think about is how badly he wants his mom or dad here.

He's never been this sick without one of them hovering.

Hell, he's never been this sick.

With the pain and the puking, he can barely breathe again, prompting the feeling of doom he had earlier, in Summer's car. And he's scared now, despite the IV sedation and shit, he should have lied to the doctor about the pain, and gotten more drugs when he had the chance.

He'd settle for a shot of Benadryl.

Someone rubs his back and someone else guides his head over a plastic bucket because he can't seem to stop vomiting and someone else tells him, "It's ok Seth."

He hears the doctor say, "I need an NG tube," and Seth shudders at the word tube and the thought of what exactly that's gonna' mean for him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Marissa has text messaged and called and basically clogged Ryan's cell with desperate pleas for him to answer her. She suspects his phone must be turned off, because he never would have ignored her last text message, telling him that Seth was in the hospital.

She and Summer have given up trying to find him. They don't know what hotel room Ryan's in or even if he's still there. Instead they are going directly to HOAG, although neither one knows if that's a good idea. Mr. Cohen told them to go back to school and maybe he just wants to be alone with Mrs. Cohen. But she's worried about Seth and her best friend, Summer, can't just sit in class wondering if she killed him. So to the hospital they go.

Marissa's cell phone rings and she grabs at it, feeling a surge of excitement that Ryan must have finally heard or read her urgent messages. But the number on the screen is her dad. When she answers, he immediately tells her that the school called, wondering if he knew that she was, evidently, skipping class. Marissa explains the entire situation to him, Summer glancing at her now and then throughout the conversation. When she hangs up, Summer asks, "Is everything cool with your dad? Do we have to go back to Harbor?"

"No," Marissa shakes her head. "Don't worry about it. He's fine. My mom would be a bitch about it, but my dad," she gives Summer a small shrug, "you know how laid-back he is."

Summer knows exactly how laid-back Marissa's dad is. Laid-back as in…a non-factor...as in… Julie Cooper may be a bitchy parent and somewhat psycho, but at least she parents, or tries to. Jimmy Cooper's not exactly what her alcoholic, pill-popping friend needs. And now with things up in the air with Ryan, how the hell is Coop gonna' react and handle everything? Ryan has become her rock, and evidently for reasons unknown to her and Coop, he's busy disintegrating, having his own private little melt-down.

Summer concentrates on driving, and tries not to think about the oh-so-super awesome afternoon she's having.

Her best friend is falling apart…again.

Something is wrong with the perpetually brooding Chino…again.

And she's not exactly stable herself, after assaulting Cohen with her car.

Yep.

Awesome afternoon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ed blows out a breath and turns around to stare off his balcony, at the very road that Ryan is pretending to watch intently. He wonders if this kid is clinically depressed, if the Cohens have neglected his mental health in favor of his physical one. Ryan seems completely devoid of normal human emotions.

It's in his nature to problem-solve and Ed can't stop himself from asking a question, even though he doubts Ryan will answer. He turns to the teen, "Have you always been this quiet? My son, Josh, he's very quiet with me, ever since his mother died. But he used to talk all the time. Most kids do, at least the ones I've been around, up until I met you that is."

Ed gives Ryan a small smile and continues. "So, tell me, have you always been this reserved, or, like Josh, have you become this way because of recent circumstances?" Ed refrains from interjecting, 'Because your lack of communication is abnormal, Ryan.'

"Your kid is pissed at you," Ryan says out of the blue, sneaks a quick peek at Ed before dropping his head just as fast. "Maybe that's why he doesn't talk to you."

Ed turns around and carefully studies the boy, surprised by his directness. Josh's anger must be more visible than Ed realizes. That, plus this kid is perceptive as hell. That, he already has learned about Ryan.

"Well, I'll say one thing," Ed sticks his hands in his pockets, turns his back again to Ryan. "When you do talk, it's always something significant. No bullshitting around with you, huh, Ryan? Is that why you're not talking to me? Because you are…" Ed hesitates, before simply adopting Ryan's wording, "pissed at me?"

"Should I be?" Ryan whispers and Ed can't help but feel his temper and frustration escalate just a little bit.

He can't figure out anything about this kid. What does Ryan want? He appears bored or angry every instance he sees Ed, but at the same time, he came over to the hotel on his own volition. With his voice a little more tight than before, Ed asks Ryan, "Do you ever answer a question directly, Ryan? Because this habit of yours, of deflecting the conversation from the main issue, is a little disrespectful to the person you're talking to."

When he turns back around, Ed expects Ryan to be heading for the sliding glass door, going back into the hotel room, away from the confrontation, or at the very least, hanging his head in an attempt to avoid Ed's questioning. But instead, the teen is standing rigid, eyes lasering in on Ed. It strikes Ed how dangerous Ryan looks, like Josh will be in a few years, strong and almost a grown man, breathing in and out with pent up anger directed at him. Ryan obviously hates him. He has no idea why or what he has done, but Ed recognizes the signs of a child who despises him. Josh has been running a fucking clinic on the subject since Sara died.

"Why did you come here, Ryan? It's painfully clear you don't want to be anywhere near me. Why did you bother?"

Ryan keeps his eyes locked on Ed and answers coldly, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

His words bristle up and down Ed's spine.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Carol pulls at Josh, dragging him along by the hand, the ice cream long forgotten, thrown away the instant she comprehended what Kirsten Cohen was telling her.

"What's happening? Why are we running?" Josh asks, out of breath. "Why did we throw the ice cream in a garbage can? I wanted some. What's going on, Aunt Carol?"

"Ryan's foster brother is very sick," she hurriedly informs Josh. "We have to bring Ryan to the Cohens."

"Who are the Cohens?" Josh asks. "Why can't they come and get him? Is this gonna' ruin the day? How far away is their house? Dad promised we'd do something fun today. Why do we have to spend any time bringing that kid anywhere? This isn't fair."

Carol has had enough.

Josh has been a brat concerning Ryan from minute one, and yeah he's hurting and still traumatized by his mother's death, but goddamnitt enough is enough.

"Listen to me, Josh," Carol stops abruptly, spins around and grabs the boy by the upper arms. "I have had enough with your constant whining and your on-going negativity towards Ryan. Brad knows darn well who the Cohens are and so would you, if you would bother to take a break from your self-absorbed attitude. The Cohens are the family that Ryan is living with and their son, Seth, Ryan's close friend, is currently in the emergency room. Kirsten Cohen is panic stricken and she's frantic and she wants Ryan with them and she's damn well going to get him and you are damn well going to keep your mouth shut and cooperate. Do I make myself clear?"

Josh stares at her wide-eyed, frozen.

"Yes ma'am," he answers timidly.

"Then let's get a move on."

Carol once again captures the boy's hand and rushes towards the hotel's entrance.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Doctor Holbrith and a man wearing an identical white lab coat emerge from the ER doors. Kirsten notices how somber Holbrith looks and the gentleman accompanying her is stone-faced. Kirsten guesses that the man has a lot of practice hiding his thoughts from patients' families. She takes a step towards her husband and encircles his arm.

Holbrith nods a non-verbal greeting in Sandy's direction before saying, "Mr. and Mrs. Cohen, this is Doctor Manning, a member of our surgical staff. I called him in for a consult. I'm going to turn the discussion over to him."

Manning takes a second to shake both the Cohens' hands before getting right to business. "As we suspected, Seth's spleen has ruptured. We've given him several units of whole blood to stabilize his pressure, but that's obviously not a permanent solution. The ultrasound revealed a tear and consequently, internal bleeding. I'm sorry, but surgery is really our only option. Once I see the extent of the damage to Seth's spleen, I'll decide whether or not it needs to be removed or simply repaired."

Holbrith steps in, tells Sandy and Kirsten in a reassuring but firm voice, "Seth is stable, but we need to proceed with surgery. Do you have any questions for Dr. Manning or me?"

Sandy asks a few but Kirsten isn't really listening to the answers. She waits for her husband and the doctors to stop talking before she asks, "Can we see Seth before the surgery?" She desperately needs to touch Seth one more time, hold his hand, tell him that they love him and not to worry and in just a few hours, he won't hurt anymore and everything will be fine and everyone will be together.

Holbrith shakes her head, informs Kirsten, "I'm sorry Mrs. Cohen, but he's already being prepped for surgery."

Kirsten thinks maybe that the young doctor can read her mind, sense her all encompassing worry over Seth's mental as well as physical health, because Holbrith smiles a quick, flash of a smile at Kirsten and tells her, "The nursing staff is taking good care of him. We've been assuring Seth constantly that's he all right, explaining everything to him as we go along so he understands what is happening. He's been given addition IV medication to help with the pain and anxiety as well as continued oxygen to assist his breathing. He really does appear as calm as possible, given the circumstances."

Kirsten nods, struggles to hold back tears.

Sandy asks, "If he's stable, what's the rush?"

Manning glances at Holbrith before answering, "Your son may be stable for now Mr. Cohen, but the bleeding needs to be stopped. We need to operate as soon as possible."

Dr. Holbith adds, "I'll have someone take you to the Recovery waiting room. You'll be allowed to see Seth when the surgery is over.

Sandy thanks the doctors, but Kirsten can't form words.

When Sandy puts his arms around her again, she lays her head against her husband's shoulder and tries not to imagine all the things that can go wrong and, despite the doctor's assurances, how frightened her son must be.

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Carol bursts into the hotel room, startling Brad and causing him to lose his grip on his Gameboy.

"What's wrong?" Brad asks, puzzled at his Aunt's sudden entrance.

"Where's Ryan?" Carol ignores the question.

"Out on the balcony with dad," Brad answers, pointing outside. As Carol moves towards the sliding glass door, Brad asks Josh, "What's up? Where's my ice cream?"

Josh starts to tell his brother to shut up, then glances cautiously at his aunt, who is struggling to get the heavy balcony door open. He decides that being obnoxious to Brad is probably not in his best interest at this moment, given that his Aunt Carol has turned into Dr. Jekell.

"That kid's friend is in the hospital."

"Seth?" asks Brad.

"Yeah, I guess so," shrugs Josh.

"Oh man," commiserates Brad. "That sucks."

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He's scared.

It's official.

He's fucking freaked out.

It seems like there are people everywhere, doing things that are all concerning him and he hates this new room he's been moved to, with everything made of shiny and polished metal.

He feels an oxygen mask, larger than the other one he had on before, form a seal around his mouth and Seth panics, forgetting for a second where he is and what is happening. He tries to shake his head back and forth to jar the mask loose, but it stays firmly over his nose and mouth.

"Shhhh," a woman says soothingly, runs fingers through his hair.

"You're ok sweetie."

Seth highly doubts that.

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Carol interrupts Ryan and Ed, guessing from the way both of them are standing so perfectly still that she has made an appearance at an inopportune moment.

But there's no time for analyzing what the most current crisis between Ed and Ryan is, because she has another emergency on her hands. She calms herself down before saying to Ed, "Kirsten Cohen just called me. We need to bring Ryan…" she stops and glances at the teenager, "to them."

"Why?" Ed asks straight forward, obviously annoyed. "He just got here, we've just had a chance to start talking. Call Mrs. Cohen back and let her know I'll drop him off later." He tells Ryan, "That is if you want to go back. You're welcome to stay with us as long as you want."

"Ed," Carol says urgently, "it's an emergency. Ryan needs to go see the Cohens right now."

Ryan's turns his attention to Carol.

"What's wrong?" he asks quickly, then answers his own question. "Something happened to Seth."

Carol nods, "Yes Ryan, I'm sorry. He's at the hospital. It sounds like it might be serious."

Ryan instantly breezes past her, gently moving her out of the way of the door.

"Ryan, wait," Carol calls out to him. "Hold on a second. Let us drive you. I promised Kirsten we'd bring you over. She wouldn't want you going to the hospital by yourself."

He stops in the middle of the hotel room, staring at Carol. He looks worried and harried and ready to fly out and away. "We're leaving right now," she assures Ryan. "Ed, I'll take him, unless you think all of us should go."

"Hold on, just slow down a minute," Ed walks into the room. "They're probably just taking their son in for a check-up. He's been sick, right? I'm sure everything is fine."

"Ed," Carol says forcefully. "I just spoke to Kirsten." She purses her lips together and says quietly to him, trying not to further upset an already twitchy Ryan, "This isn't a check-up. They had to bring him to the hospital," she whispers in the direction of her brother. "Via ambulance."

"How do you know that's the truth, Carol?" Ed raises his voice. "Isn't it a tad bit too convenient that right when Ryan shows up here at the hotel, the Cohens suddenly need him to leave? I bet this is nothing more than an exaggerated ruse to keep Ryan from talking to me."

"Ed!" Carol says his name in disbelief, "Kirsten Cohen would not lie to me about her son being in the hospital. The situation is an emergency."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is," Ed laughs sarcastically.

Ryan must be losing patience with the both of them. Carol watches as he continues to move quickly towards the door.

"Ryan, wait," Carol implores. "I'll take you myself. Right now."

Ed moves hastily to Ryan's side, grabbing him by the arm. "Everybody just slow down. I'll take Ryan myself, and when this turns out to be nothing but a hoax, Sandy Cohen is getting a call from my attorney. I'm sick of their shit. Their prolonged clinging is making this impossible on Ryan. They need to accept the inevitable and back the hell off."

Carol's mouth hangs wide open in disbelief at what her brother is saying. He's lost his mind. She's convinced of it. Nothing else can explain his behavior.

Finding out about Ryan has driven Ed to insanity.

"Let. Go. Of. Me." Ryan commands ominously, standing very still, but with every muscle tense, looking dangerously ready to pounce.

"Ryan? Dad?" Brad joins in on the fray, asks a nervous, "What's happening? Why is everybody so angry?"

"Carol, get the boys out of here," Ed says steely, refusing to relinquish his grip on Ryan.

"No," Carol and Brad answer simultaneously, Carol tagging on a definite, "I'm not leaving without Ryan. This is ridiculous, Ed. The Cohens aren't lying about their son's medical condition. You're being irrational and paranoid."

Ryan tries to shake loose of Ed.

The man tightens his hand around Ryan's arm.

"Listen to me Ryan, the Cohens have been trying since day one to sabotage the possibility of my family having a relationship with you. They have no right to keep pulling you in the wrong direction, sending you mixed signals. Your mother isn't coming back. She's abandoned you with strangers. The only thing that makes sense is for you to come and live with me. I can be your father. I _am_ your father, Ryan. You know what I'm saying is true. That's why you came here. You already said it yourself, you have no where else to go, staying with the Cohens isn't a choice for you."

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Ryan can't process anything but getting this fucker's hand off his arm. He hears the tail end of Ed's aggressive plea, _"You already said it yourself, you have no where else to go, living with the Cohens isn't a choice for you."_

And maybe the guy's right about that.

But right now, at this second, all Ryan can think about is Seth, and how bad the teenager looked earlier, when he came to the hotel to find him. God, it's entirely fault his foster brother is in the hospital. Something probably happened when Seth was out searching for him, instead of where he belonged, with Kirsten at the doctor appointment.

Kirsten.

Kirsten called for him, told Carol to bring him to her and Sandy.

Just like she promised him she would.

She didn't leave him out of the loop this time, like she did on Thursday.

She kept her promise.

She called him to be with her family.

Ryan breathes in and out rapidly, his chest heaving with the effort to manage his anger. He can hear himself inhaling and exhaling, the sound dominating the now silent room.

He's losing control and the past few days of madness are dissolving into each other, coming together and forming a humongous boulder, which is starting to roll, with an uncontrollable momentum, down a steep, steep mountain.

"Let go of me," he repeats to Ed, uses his free hand as leverage against Ed's arm, trying to forcefully pull away from the older man.

When that doesn't work, he does what he always does.

What he can't stop doing no matter how hard he tries and no matter how many promises he vows to the Cohens.

He winds back with his right arm and punches Ed with all he's got.

It's more than adequate.

He watches Ed react, surprise instantly appearing on his face, as he goes down in one fell swoop.

Ryan stands motionless, surprised a little himself, that it actually worked, and maybe a little bit scared, because, shit…it actually worked…and he just punched 'his father'…and that's something not even Trey or his mother ever managed to do to Russell.

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"Dad!" Brad exclaims and runs over to his dad. He kneels down, glaring up at semi-stunned Ryan, before trying to help Ed up. But he's not strong enough, becomes unbalanced, and falls down, ending up sitting next to his father on the floor.

Ryan looks around the room in what seems to be slow motion.

Josh has backed up into a corner, clearly afraid. Carol stands with her hand to her mouth, and Brad, Brad is staring at him like Ryan is the Anti-Christ.

"You hit my dad," Brad says, seemingly bewildered, almost as if his brain is just now catching up with his reaction to seeing his indestructible father punched. "You can't do that, Ryan. Kids aren't supposed to hit adults. You're not allowed to hit my dad."

"Brad honey, it's ok." Carol clears her throat, says, "He didn't mean to hit your father. Let's go, Ryan. We'll deal with this later."

Her voice is soft, gentle, but she doesn't go near him.

She's probably nervous that she's next on his hit list, Ryan surmises.

He takes a step forward, towards Brad, tells the boy a stuttered, "I'm …I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit him that hard. I just wanted…for him… to let me go."

Brad scoots guardedly away from the teenager, tears forming in his eyes.

"Ryan," Carol repeats his name, "not now, we'll deal with this later. We should leave, check on Seth."

She's got a patronizing tone, maybe laced with a tinge of fear, and Ryan feels all their eyes on him, like he's a wild, starving lion, suddenly let loose on a crowd of innocent people.

Ed sits up, using Brad's shoulder as a post.

Stares at Ryan.

"Very nice, Ryan," he says, swiping blood off his nose, his voice as cold as ice, "Would you like to kick me while I'm sitting here? Why not, seeing as though you have no problem sucker punching me in front of my children."

"Ed!" Carol shouts his name, looking up at the ceiling, exasperated. "God, what is wrong with you? Stop it. Don't make this any worse."

She hesitates and then gradually, tentatively, walks over to Ryan and places her hand on his arm.

"Come on, Ryan," she says softly, guiding him past a shell-shocked Brad and a simmering Ed, to the hotel door.

Ryan allows her to navigate, suddenly lifeless, no longer filled with anger.

He's dead inside to anything, everything.

He takes a glimpse over his shoulder, at Brad, who is staring at him while openly crying, periodically gulping in air, and stroking his hand in a gesture of self-comfort, up and down his dad's back.

The last thing he hears before exiting the hotel room is Ed quietly consoling the younger boy.

And Ryan wonders if after what has transpired, Brad will ever talk to him again, and if Seth will be ok, and if even though Kirsten called, he wonders if she and Sandy can ever forgive him for 'causing Seth to leave the house and be in the hospital in the first place. He wonders about everything else he's done wrong, and keeps doing wrong, because he's a flawed person, and it's no wonder he's got nowhere to go and probably, after today, absolutely no one who wants him.

It makes sense, that nobody would want him.

He never does anything right.

He always makes stupid, rushed decisions.

He never thinks things through.

Who would want to possibly deal with a kid like him?

He always regrets later, what he's done.

But still, he can never forgive himself for his actions.

So how can he expect any one else to?

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To be continued….


	30. Best of Intentions Chapter Twenty Nine

**Author's note:** Two updates in two days. I think we might actually be back on track folks…..I hope….crossing fingers.

Have to thank **Fred** and my bestbeta ever **Crash** for helping me jump start and returning this chapter so quickly.

Have to thank everyone for actually giving me reviews on the last chapter, because after making you guys wait that long…I didn't deserve ZIP!

God this story is just SUCH A DRAMARAMA!

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Twenty-Nine

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Carol adjusts the rental car's driver seat to fit her much shorter legs.

It was just about the strangest, oddest walk she's ever taken, the one from Ed's room to here, the hotel parking garage. Carol feels removed from the rest of the world, like she and Ryan are existing in their own private dome of dysfunction, separated from the normal, everyday lives happening all around them.

Ryan didn't say a word on their way to the car, probably because the poor kid is zapped of all energy. Carol hasn't said a single word either, because she's afraid that anything she says is going to be the wrong thing and the teenager will bolt. It's probably only his concern for the Cohens' son that is keeping him from taking off.

She sneaks a peek at him. He's waiting silently in the car, toying with his cell phone with his left hand, turning it on by pressing the power button. She hears a soft, reactionary, "Crap," as he listens to and reads the numerous messages he's missed.

"We'll hurry," Carol assures him.

"Everybody called me," Ryan says dejectedly, more to himself than her. He turns towards his window, his voice still barely louder than a whisper. "Sandy, Kirsten, Marissa. Everybody called to tell me about Seth."

"You didn't know, honey," Carol says. "It's not your fault you missed their calls, Ryan. It's not your fault you didn't know about Seth. Look at everything you've gone through today. No one's blaming you for anything."

As they pull out of the parking garage, Ryan casts a sideways glance at her, saying, "You don't have to do this. I can walk or take a cab." He stops for a minute before adding bluntly, "I hit your brother."

Carol doesn't mean to make light of the miserable situation, but something in her snaps and she laughs out loud and guns the car and tells him, "Ryan, I'm the last one to approve of violence, and it's regrettable that Josh and Brad were there to witness it, and I doubt that hitting Ed is going to make you feel any better or resolve anything."

She stops the car for a moment at the parking garage's exit, looks directly at him and says, "But let's face it. Shit, Ed had it coming."

Ryan raises his eyebrows in disbelief, actually returning and maintaining the eye contact.

"Got any more smokes?" Carol asks casually, because she's already given the kid a pass for punching his own biological father, so why the hell not continue to bond with her newest nephew over a cancer stick. She'll smoke just a few, then she'll take the rest of the pack from him and chastise him to never, ever, smoke again.

And she'll mean it.

And sound very stern.

And not go soft, like she does with Brad.

Even though Ryan looks exactly like Brad, and in his own way, is just as likeable.

Ryan passes her a cigarette, eyeing her suspiciously and they both light up, Ryan only doing so after she goes first.

Carol notices that he's favoring his right hand, realizes he hasn't used it at all.

"Did you break it?" she asks, motioning to the hand, assuming the worst, because that's pretty much how the day has gone.

Ryan shakes his head no, proves to her that it's only sore by balling his hand up in a fist and then relaxing it again. Still, it's swelling, but the kid doesn't seem to care.

Fading black eye, freshly bruised knuckles.

Ed's oldest son is tough as nails.

Carol's lost in thought for a second, comparing Josh and Brad's suburban upbringing to the world Ryan must have grown up in. For just an instant, she understands maybe why Ed is going nuts. He's busted his ass to give his sons a comfortable home, a loving environment. His family and their safely and security have always been his number one priority. Now Ryan comes along and he's had a shitty childhood and how must Ed feel, knowing that even though he was unaware of Ryan, he's still responsible for this kid existing?

Doesn't excuse Ed's behavior.

But it maybe explains it a little.

She takes a deep puff and exhales slowly, relishing the long forsaken vice.

This is the best damn cigarette she has ever smoked and goddamnitt, she has smoked some pretty damn good cigarettes over the years.

Maybe, when things have calmed down, she'll tell Ryan about her brother, his new father, because she's pretty sure the teen still hasn't actually met the real Ed yet.

Now's not the time.

Someday it will be.

She's not losing track of this kid no matter what has gone down between him and Ed. Ryan's stuck with her for life, whether or not he likes it.

Carol considers giving Ryan a quick hug, because that's what she does when Ed's sons are hurting, she hugs them and tells them things will work out.

But today, with Ryan, she'll settle for smiling at him again, and allow herself to be happy that he's stayed with her this far, trusted her this much.

She mentally shelves the hug away for that future someday.

They both lower their windows to allow the smoke to escape and Carol flips up the volume, playing the radio as loud as it will go.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy gets up, sits down, gets up, sits down, gets up.

Sits down.

On his fourth attempt to stand up, Kirsten clasps his hand, distracts her husband's nervousness with the question, "What do you think is taking Ryan so long?"

"I don't know," he answers, looking around the Recovery waiting room. "Maybe the aunt isn't bringing him. Maybe she didn't even tell Ryan about Seth."

"No," Kirsten shakes her head. "Carol wouldn't do that. They must be caught up in traffic."

"Maybe," Sandy sounds skeptical.

He lowers his head. "I still can't believe Ryan went to Ed's hotel. I thought he was happy living with us, with Seth. No, things weren't perfect, and yeah, he had some serious self-inflicted doubts concerning his place with us, but I still thought…I thought he would stay with us."

His voice fades away.

"Ryan's just so confused, Sandy," Kirsten tells her husband. "He's overwhelmed and questioning everything."

Sandy doesn't pursue the conversation further and Kirsten backs off, allowing her husband the silence and space he seems to need to come to terms with the fact that Ryan may indeed be leaving them to live with Ed.

Her mind wanders back to the first time she and Seth took Ryan shopping and how they had to secretly convince the clerks to take the tags off all the shirts Ryan tried on, because the poor kid looked sick whenever he caught a glimpse of the prices. "It's free day at the mall," Seth had joked, trying to help, but Ryan had glanced at Kirsten with such guilt that it had broken her heart until she simply left the mall with the boys and went back alone later that night, scooping up everything that she could recall fit Ryan. She even grabbed a few other shirts, blues and grays, because she thought the colors would compliment his eyes and it was something she automatically did when she made purchases for Seth and Sandy. She bought T-shirts, dozens of them and wifebeaters by the armful and when she gave the stack of clothes to him she said, "Compromise, Ryan. We'll both give a little."

And the look suited him, the shirts she helped pick out, offset by Ryan's preferred no-frills basic cottons.

She remembers other times with her and Seth and Ryan and Sandy and it's too much to bear, that both of the boys could be taken from them, that those moments, with the four of them together, could all come to an end today or tomorrow.

How will Seth get better, in mind and spirit, with Ryan gone? He's come to depend on the other teenager so much.

She feels her heartbeat starting to race and she thinks maybe she's starting to have another all out stress attack over Seth's current medical crisis. She tries to calm herself, convince herself that she's being far too pessimistic and that people recover all the time from injuries far worse than her son's.

It's a simple procedure. There's no way that Seth can die. It's inconceivable.

She can't stay sitting one more second, she'll go crazy...she'll drive herself nuts.

She stands up, takes a deep, calming breath, and stretches. "I'm going to try calling Ryan again."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Sandy asks.

Kirsten tells him no, she's just going to step outside the waiting room, where the cell reception is a little better and the privacy a little more…private.

Sandy, sounding just about as exhausted as she's ever heard him sound, turns to her and says, "If you get ahold of Ryan, Kirsten, tell him I'm sorry for hanging up on him earlier. Make sure he knows I'm not upset with him."

She nods, understanding her husband's regret.

Because what was it, just a few hours ago that she was ready to throttle Seth for taking off, out of the house.

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Dr. Manning likes challenges, but he doesn't appreciate surprises.

More specifically surprises that happen with children he's responsible for, especially a kid that was more or less stable five minutes ago.

When the monitors that register blood pressure and heart rate begin making noises he doesn't particularly like hearing, he turns quickly to the anesthesiologist.

"Go," is all the man says and Manning makes a swift, smooth cut.

He finds the bleed in Seth's belly just as the monitors start screaming a final warning.

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The theme to COPS suddenly infiltrates the car and it takes Ryan a second to realize that it's his cell phone that is making all the noise.

He smiles to himself, knowing that sometime during last night, Seth must have changed the ringtone from the boring, came-with-the-phone "brrrrriiiing" to the cheesy television theme song. Any other time, he'd be pissed that Seth can't ever stop pushing the envelope of bad taste. Or that Seth screwed with his cell, one of the few possessions that Ryan owns outright and doesn't have to mooch off his foster brother.

Yeah, sure, Sandy and Kirsten bought it for him, but they gave it to him, told him it was his to keep. Told him that they wanted him to have the cell, because they wanted to make sure he could contact them whenever he needed to.

"Nice song," Carol jokes quietly, "it suits your image."

Ryan tells her, "Seth did it. He does stuff like this all the time."

Carol nods, a knowing smile on her face.

The short moment of levity over, Ryan answers his cell phone, still cursing himself for turning the damn thing off earlier in the day.

It's Kirsten, managing to sound surprisingly composed, wanting to know if he's close. He tells her that they are only a few minutes away and Kirsten explains exactly where she and Sandy are waiting in the hospital and how to get there.

"Recovery?" Ryan asks quietly, a dark cloud of foreboding overtaking him.

"Seth's in surgery, Ryan. His spleen ruptured."

Ryan feels a lump forming, deep down in his throat.

His stomach starts churning.

He resists the urge to ask Carol to pull over so he can throw up.

Seth and surgery and a ruptured spleen?

Seth is a wimp and whiny and not so tough.

The guy complains non-stop when he stubs his toe.

How's he suppose to get through something like surgery?

Ryan forgets where Kirsten told him to go, forgets how to get to Recovery. The hospital is so big and he's only been there a few times.

Like a CD with a scratch, his brain goes into autopilot, repeating to itself…Seth and surgery and Seth…and surgery.

Ryan rubs clumsily at his eyes with his sore hand and says into the phone, "I don't…which door is it? I don't know…I don't know where that is."

He feels Carol poke his shoulder and he glances up at her.

"Let me have the phone, Ryan," she points to the cell. "Let me talk to Kirsten."

It's not like him to admit he needs help, but Ryan's so fucking tired and no matter how hard he tries to concentrate, he can't seem to comprehend the directions Kirsten is giving him, so he relinquishes his cell, leans his head against the windowpane and closes his eyes, barely listening as Carol talks to his foster mom. He's a little dizzy, a little sick to his stomach. Other than cigarettes and coffee, he hasn't bothered to put anything else in his mouth. He rubs unconsciously at his belly before realizing what he's doing.

Yawns.

He'll grab something to eat and some sleep later, when he knows Seth is all right.

The CD continues its spin, Seth and surgery, Seth and surgery.

Ryan feels the car slow down, turn a corner, and he opens his eyes, expecting to see HOAG.

Instead, they are pulling into a fast food drive-through.

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Kirsten snaps her phone shut and walks back into the waiting room to let Sandy know that Ryan is almost at the hospital. Her husband is pacing again, back and forth on a short, imaginary line that only he can see.

As she approaches him, she's overcome with an ominous, razor-sharp sense of dread.

Deep down, in her soul, Kirsten suddenly has the darkest feeling she's ever had. She glances quickly at Sandy, because for some reason she expects him to be having the same reaction.

Expects him to be feeling the same sudden horror.

"Something's wrong," she says before she even realizes the words have come out of her mouth. "Sandy, something's wrong."

She can sense it.

Something is very wrong.

Holding Seth for the first time, brushing his crazy hair, way too much of it and way too thick for a toddler, drying his tears when he was in grade school as he begged her to let him stay home, not make him go.

Watching over the years, as he passed her up in height, becoming a young man.

"Honey, everything's fine, Seth is fine. You're exhausted," Sandy tells her, guides her to a chair where she sits in shock, trying to understand the irrational feelings she's being unexpectedly gripped by.

Kirsten can't explain it to Sandy.

But deep down in her soul, she just knows.

Something is very wrong with their son.

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Carol justifies the impromptu stop, telling Ryan, "It's going to be at least another couple of hours before Seth is out of surgery. You look like roadkill Ryan. I can't take you to the Cohens like this. At least eat something. You have to be hungry. Josh and Brad never stop eating."

He reluctantly orders a cheeseburger, mustard only, and Carol smiles to herself.

That's exactly how her brother likes his.

She asks the kid at the drive-through window for a bag of ice, and surprisingly, he manages to produce one.

Ryan eats the burger with his left hand while icing the right one.

When they arrive at HOAG, Carol parks the car and tells him, "I'll go in with you. Recovery sounds a little difficult to find."

It's a good enough excuse, but in truth, Carol feels a need to take care of Ryan until he's safe and secure with the Cohens. She can't turn back time, undo what happened in the hotel room; Ed's words, Ryan's punch, the aftermath of both. But she can walk Ryan into the hospital and maybe warn the Cohens about what happened, especially to the teenager's hand. She's still concerned he may have broken something.

She talks here and there, basically to herself, as she and Ryan make the hike to the Recovery waiting room. When he spots the sign, indicating the waiting room is a few feet away, Ryan stops dead in his tracks, staring at the entrance to the room.

"Ryan?"

When he turns to her, all Carol can see is Brad, the day his mom died.

Grief-stricken.

Depleted.

They stare at one another for a minute and Carol doesn't know what to say. Ryan's come this far with her, but she senses her presence is no longer needed.

She tells him to stay put, hang on a second, she'll be right back, and leaves Ryan there, in the hallway, deciding that she can't give the teenager what he needs, and suspects that the only ones who can even come close to being able to are sitting a few feet away in the waiting room.

She enters the waiting room and spots the Cohens tucked away in a corner, Sandy Cohen pacing by a window, Kirsten leaning over with her hands in her lap, staring at the carpet. Mr. Cohen notices her first and he glances around confused, quickening his pace as he moves towards her.

Ryan.

He's looking for Ryan, Carol realizes.

This is the same reaction Ed would have if he was searching desperately for one of his sons.

Foster parent, guardian, Ryan's lawyer, whatever Ed wants to call him, this man coming towards her is acting like an anxious father.

"He's ok, he's here," Carol says quickly. "He's right outside the door."

"Thank you," Sandy quietly answers as he rushes past her.

Carol watches him exit and then turns again to look at Kirsten.

She may hardly know this woman, but Carol recognizes someone who desperately needs a person to sit next to them and maybe just give them blanket reassurances.

Maybe just listen.

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"Hey kid."

Ryan lifts his head up, sees Sandy, standing there, looking at him, and in a blink of his eye, everything, all of it, his father arrested so long ago, his mom's drinking, the revolving door of asshole boyfriends, the stolen car, Trey locked up, Dawn escaping from him in a yellow taxi cab, Thursday and Friday and Saturday and Sunday, and fuck, this fucking day, all ram into him, from every angle, and Ryan doesn't think he has the emotional or physical reserves to even remain standing.

He's so tired.

He wants to ask how Seth is and if Kirsten is handling things ok.

He wants to ask Sandy how he's doing.

He wants to apologize to Sandy, because it's his fault Seth ended up in the hospital, and he wants to say he's sorry for going to that guy's hotel today and he's sorry for not believing Sandy, even if he was lying Sunday in the pool house, when he told Ryan that he wanted him and that he and Kirsten weren't keeping him in their home out of guilt or pity, but out of something more, that all of them felt, the minute Ryan came to stay with them.

He wants to tell Sandy that he's sorry about all the fights and destroying the model home and never listening and always acting on impulse and he's sorry that all he ever does is fuck things up.

He's sorry that Sandy and Kirsten have surrendered all their free time to him and his constant problems and he's sorry that all he does, when he tries to make things better, is make things worse.

But as fucking usual his brain won't produce the words.

So he just stands there, arms stiffly to his side, and stares at his guardian.

"Thanks for coming here, Ryan." Sandy says softly, walking towards him, step by slow step. "I'll respect any decision that you've made concerning the long run, but for right now, thank you for coming back."

He stops a few feet from Ryan.

Stares back at him.

Suddenly the right words blaze across Ryan's mind like a newsflash running along the bottom of a television screen. They roll into his head and down into his throat and find their way out of his mouth, and Ryan thinks to himself, why didn't he just say these words a long time ago? Why was it so hard to figure any of this out, when now, here in a hospital hallway, seeing Sandy, hearing his words echoing in his head, it all makes perfect sense?

It's all so clear.

"_Thanks for coming here, Ryan…thank you for coming back."_

Ryan looks at Sandy and tells him, "I never wanted to leave," and with that, he drops his head back down, because saying five words never took so much out of him.

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To be continued…………


	31. Best of Intentions Chapter Thirty

**Author's notes**: Wouldn't it be a bit funny if this story out lasted the show?

Ok…not so funny.

Huge thanks to anyone still reading. I don't deserve your loyalty…or your nudges…or um…your threats….well, actually, I do deserve the threats.

I honestly cannot explain why this story is taking me so long….ahem…2 years. Sigh.

As I write each chapter, I always have to remind myself that this is very early season one. The characters have changed so much since then.

Quick recap:

Ryan hit Ed.

Carol took Ryan to the hospital.

Sandy found Ryan in the hallway.

Ed is still being misunderstood! He's innocent.

Seth is dying because Summer burst his spleen with a car door.

Just another normal day in Newport.

I love you **crash**! the wonder beta. The last 2000 words or so are unbeta'd because um…I can't stop tinkering. All mistakes are mine.

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Best of Intentions

Chapter Thirty

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"_I never wanted to leave."_

In the hospital hallway, Sandy stares at Ryan, relieved by the kid's words while frustrated that it took the teen so long to say them.

A stranger might catch a glimpse of Ryan, standing here with his head down and shoulders rolled over in a slump and perceive the kid's body language as being disrespectful or inattentive.

Sandy sees Ryan for what he is, a walking oxymoron of scuffed boots… expensive jeans… a worn, faded black leather jacket…designer shirts… confident and cocky…reserved and guarded… self-imposed isolation…and a child craving contact.

Sometimes Sandy wonders what Ryan must think of him and Kirsten, taking a teenager into their home, just like that.

Sometimes, before he puts a hand on Ryan's shoulder or musses his hair, Sandy wonders just how bad things were for Ryan, that he allowed himself to simply be swept into a new family. How desperate was he, to follow Sandy blindly and give up everything and everyone he knew, just to have even a slim chance at a real life, a chance at something better?

Sometimes, like at this moment, in this very public place, Sandy remembers that Ryan requires more than just words of assurance. Whether or not he's aware of it, the teenager has a constant need to test people and limits and expectations, to make sure that he can relax and let his guard down and allow himself to invest his time and trust in them.

Sometimes, Sandy wonders what it must be like for Ryan, how exhausting it must be, to only feel comfortable depending on himself, to always be waiting for the axe to fall, the other shoe to drop, to always be anticipating failure in some form or another. His family members have failed him, the system has failed him, too many random adults in too many roles have failed him, and Ryan has failed himself more than once and in more than a few ways.

Sometimes, Sandy wonders if Ryan does it all on purpose, pushing people away with his various impulsive actions and reactions.

But Sandy has made up his mind that, no matter what this kid throws at him, he's not going to allow Ryan to slip away.

He's not going to allow Ryan fade out of their lives simply because the teenager would rather take himself down than risk the chance of being rejected by people he's come to rely on.

Just a few seconds ago Ryan admitted to him, _"I never wanted to leave."_

This is maybe the most pivotal moment he will ever share with Ryan and Sandy knows he needs to seize it.

He gathers his thoughts and moves a few feet closer to the teenager.

"We didn't want you to leave us either. But kid, you can't stay unless you allow yourself to really, truly, believe that we want you. You can't ever be happy living in my home unless you take a chance and trust that, once in a while, something good can happen to you, no strings attached. We want you Ryan, and you want us, so why can't that be enough? Why _can't_ it be that simple?"

Sometimes, some days, like today, when Ryan finally looks up at him with his eyes full of sadness and despair and hopelessness and confusion and an unsaid desperateness to put his faith in something and someone, Sandy wonders how anyone could ever let this kid down, how anyone couldn't feel obliged to make sure he was safe and happy and loved.

How is it possible, that he and Kirsten and Seth are the only ones in Ryan's short life, to find value in this boy?

"Just give yourself a break, Ryan. Just allow things to be uncomplicated. Just allow Kirsten and me to take care of you. God knows you deserve that, son. You've deserved it for a long time."

Sometimes Sandy's not sure what to do for Ryan and sometimes, like right now, right here, in this hallway, he is.

"You're going to be all right. I have faith in you. You're going to get through this. You're gonna have to trust me on this. Things aren't as bad as they seem, and even if they are, you're still going to be ok. Even when you're stumbling and it's looking like you might fall, I always have confidence in you kid, that you'll stay upright and on your feet."

Sandy steps a little closer, asks, "Do you believe me, Ryan? When I tell you I have faith in you?"

The teenager glances at Sandy, his eyes peeking through haphazard bangs.

"Yes," he answers quietly, his eyes shifting from Sandy to the floor and back again.

"All right then," Sandy says, with an ease and casualness that doesn't match the seriousness of the moment but seems to offset the intensity, just like when he walked through the door of Ryan's home in Chino and found the boy in the abandoned kitchen, a devastating note of abandonment in his hand.

"Come on, kid. Let's go see how Kirsten's doing."

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Ryan knows he has to decide, has to choose.

Sandy makes it so easy to give up thinking. He makes it so easy to just relax into his words and feel like nothing matters anymore and just being around him is the solution to every single problem that Ryan has ever had to deal with. More than anything, he wishes with all his heart that he could just give in to that feeling of safety and comfort.

When he's not with Sandy, Ryan can picture walking away from the Cohens.

But whenever his foster father is around, all of Ryan's previous decisions about relieving the Cohens of dealing with him and his fucked up life fall away and seem to lack the concrete and mortar to hold together.

He can hurt himself and he can be cold to Seth and indifferent to Kirsten or Marissa if he has to be, if he thinks it's the best thing for them, but he can never stand up to Sandy.

Sandy sees through him.

Sandy knows when Ryan is lying to himself.

Sandy is everything Ryan wants in a father. He's dependable and trustworthy and solid and caring and admirable and structured and flexible and safe. But it's these same qualities that Ryan has long since given up on ever finding in a dad and he's afraid that if he gives in, and accepts that Sandy is the real thing, then Sandy will dissolve into all the other men that Ryan has had to deal with, all the others who have hurt him or at the very least walked away from him.

And maybe it's that he's learning to love the Cohens and that fact alone makes Ryan not want to be a permanent part of their family, because what if he or time or life's complications somehow ruins this family. He couldn't bear to watch the Cohens fall apart or be a cause or a contribution to its destruction.

Ryan's convinced that all families fall apart. It's always only a matter of time.

Sandy is asking him to have faith. Faith in himself. Faith in Sandy as a father. Faith in the Cohens as his family.

Ryan closes his eyes and thinks about what Sandy just said.

"_Sometimes things can be simple" _he repeats to himself.

He glances up at Sandy.

"_Just allow things to be uncomplicated."_

Ryan knows he has to decide. He knows he has to choose. He has to commit. He can't keep pulling out of this family and allowing himself to be pushed back in.

"Come on kid. Let's go see how Kirsten's doing."

With one last glance at Sandy, Ryan chooses, making his decision with a nod.

He wants to be a part of this family. He's not sure what part exactly and he's not sure that he's making the right decision for Sandy and Kirsten but, Sandy says they want him.

Still.

And the words feel just as good to hear as they did a few months ago in the Cohens' living room.

Only this time, they feel more permanent.

More solid.

Because now, everybody knows each other and more importantly, Sandy and Kirsten know him and what a fuck up he is and yet, they really do seem to still want him.

Ryan's made his decision.

He follows Sandy into the Recovery Room.

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Carol asks Kirsten if she wants company and can she sit down beside her and would it be all right if she spent a few minutes with her?

"Is Ryan all right?" Kirsten asks once Carol has settled in a chair.

Carol tells her about the fight and about both Ryan and Ed's outbursts and how she's so very sorry that she couldn't prevent any of it.

"Your husband is with Ryan out in the hall."

But of course Kirsten already must certainly know that and Carol mentally slaps herself on the head for stating the obvious before inquiring as to how Seth is.

Kirsten looks away from Carol. "Sandy thinks I'm overreacting but I can't get this awful thought out of my head that Seth's not going to… "

She doesn't finish her thought.

It's obvious that the distraught mother is struggling to hold back tears.

Carol, uncomfortable and unsure how to respond, reaches over and tentatively places her hand on top of Kirsten's.

"I'm so sorry that my brother has added to the pressure you and your husband are under. If there's anything at all I can do..."

Kirsten's attention shifts from Carol to the entrance of the waiting room. Her husband is standing there, his arm on Ryan's shoulder, and Kirsten tells Carol, "You already have."

Carol shares a knowing smile, stands up, and politely excuses herself.

She leaves the Cohens and Ryan to themselves, knowing in her heart that she's done the absolute right thing, bringing the teenager here, to these people. She watches Kirsten Cohen reach out to Ryan and give him a sad tear-filled smile and gently push some hair out of his eyes, before pulling him into a hug.

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"I want to go home," Josh sourly announces to Ed, "This vacation sucks. It's the worst ever. It isn't any fun."

Brad, still a little shell-shocked from the fight he witnessed says to his father, "I don't understand why Ryan hit you."

"Because he's an asshole you idiot," Josh answers his brother, pushing him slightly. "I told you that kid was a jerk."

Ed sighs, holding a complimentary hotel ice pack on the side of his face, up against the red, raised bruise that Ryan's punch caused.

The same bruise that Ed is slowly realizing that he himself solicited. He pushed and he forced and he drew Ryan into a corner and he's got an ice pack and no Ryan as a result of his efforts.

"I'm the jerk," Ed quietly responds to both his sons. "I'm the one who's been acting like the asshole."

"No you're not," Brad immediately denies his father's confession, "No, you're not Dad. You're not any of those things. Don't say words like that."

Ed ignores Brad, instead zeroing in on his oldest son. "I'm a jerk. Admit it Josh, that's what you're always thinking. Be honest. You _do_ think I'm an asshole, right? Did Ryan beat you, literally, to the punch? Do you wish it could have been you that hit me? Would you please tell me what I have done that is so awful that two out of three of my sons think I'm a jerk, worthy of punching?"

"You're not a jerk, Dad," Brad continues to try and comfort his father. "Please stop saying it. Josh doesn't think that."

Still ignoring Brad's pleas, Ed stays focused on his older son.

He can feel all the frustration and parental self-doubts building up for an eruption and he's so tired of all the unsaid hostility with Josh that holding back his emotions just isn't an option anymore.

"Let's go Josh. Let's have at it. Why let Ryan have all the fun? Might as well get your blows in too. Let's hear what I have done so wrong that Ryan, a kid who has only known us less than a couple of days, can already pick up on the fact that you can't stand me. You're just like him, you know that Josh? Brad may look like Ryan but you act like him, in the glares you give me and the simmering hostility and the constant unhappiness that's always around us whenever I'm in the same room as you."

"Dad, please stop," begs Brad, sounding more and more frantic as he places himself in front of his father, trying to steer Ed's attention away from his older brother. "Let's go out, ok, Dad? Let's go do something. Let's go to the beach or anywhere you want. Josh'll be nice. I promise for him. And I won't be annoying; I won't make him mad at me. We won't fight, I promise. We'll be good for you."

Ed moves the little boy out of the way by placing his hands on Brad's shoulders and simply walking around him, towards his other son.

"Come on Josh. You've been waiting for this moment since your mother died. Ryan started it, you finish it. Let me know why it is that I am such a horrible father."

"Dad," Brad starts crying, pulling at the back of Ed's shirt, trying to get him to turn around.

Refusing to retreat from his angry father, Josh takes a step forward and screams at Ed, "YOU DON'T LISTEN TO ME! YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ANYONE."

The boy stands there red faced, fists clenched, his eyes watering, and repeats one more time, much more subdued, "You never listen to anyone, except for mom, and now she's dead, and you don't listen to anyone anymore."

Ed absorbs his son's words, holds the ice pack loosely in his hand, feels some of the condensation dripping down his leg and he asks himself, just when in the hell did things get so out of hand and what was the specific moment that he let his wife down, by allowing the family she worked so hard to build, slowly fall apart before his very eyes?

"Just stop it, please, stop fighting both of you," he hears Brad plead.

Ed turns around and sees his youngest son, hands limply to his side, crying, looking back and forth between himself and Josh.

"Please just don't be angry anymore. You're never happy anymore."

It's a tough call, Ed decides, to figure out which person Brad is talking to. Both he and Josh have wasted months being mad at each other, not bothering to worry about Brad being stuck in the middle of their escalating feud.

Ed's spent months being angry with Josh and days being angry with Dawn Atwood or Sandy Cohen, and now these past hours, angry with Ryan.

And where has it gotten him?

Nothing's fixed.

Nothing's better.

Nothing's the way it should be.

Sara was taken from him, along with their unborn child. Josh won't speak to him and now maybe he's in danger of losing Brad, the only one in his family that he can still see any trace of his carefree wife in.

"We're done, Brad," he tells his son, holds out a hand, reaching out for the little boy and pulling him into a hug. Brad holds on tight, gripping Ed's waist, his tears soaking into his father's shirt.

"This ends today son," he assures the boy. "I'm so very sorry for the way I've been acting since your mother died. It's not fair to you or Josh."

He brushes his fingers through Brad's hair, lays his head on the top of his son's head.

"I'm giving you my word Brad. As of today, Josh and I are done being angry."

A few minutes later, when Brad calms down and settles silently into a television show, Ed takes Josh out on the balcony and sits his son down and tells him, "Please talk to me Josh. Just talk to me, and I promise this time, I'll listen to you."

Alone in the hotel room, Brad stops pretending to watch TV, picks up the sketch he drew for Ryan, walks over to the end table beside the bed, digs around for one of his tracing pencils, and in fast, angry, choppy swings, scratches over the image of his new brother.

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Summer is losing patience with the woman sitting at HOAG's information booth. The lady isn't backing down from her position of refusing to give up the scoop concerning Cohen's condition. Summer knows damn well that something is up, because the hospital always gives out room numbers to whoever asks and there are only so many reasons why Seth wouldn't have a room assigned to him by now.

"Well, is he still in the emergency room?" Summer asks impatiently. "Can you just let us know that?" She coldly stares at the woman, taps her foot, one arm hooked at her side.

"I already told you young lady," the woman begins, "that information is confidential."

"Oh whatever," Summer says sarcastically, "power monger much? Come on Coop, we'll take care of this ourselves."

She pulls at her friend's arm and gives the woman behind the counter a hateful sneer.

The woman pastes on a plastic smile and calls after them, "Have a nice day, girls."

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Task analysis, thinks Sandy to himself.

It's time for some task analysis.

He's good at it.

Most lawyers are.

Task one, locate Ryan.

Task one is completed, Ryan came back.

Task two, find out if Ryan really wants to leave them to go live with Ed.

Task two is completed. Ryan has finally admitted, with just a few words and one very subtle yet convincing action, that he wants to stay.

Sandy decides that task three is up to him. He needs to make sure Ryan knows steps one and two weren't missteps.

"Hey," Sandy says quietly after Kirsten releases Ryan from the embrace she immediately pulled him into the minute he walked into the waiting room. "We should make ourselves comfortable. It's going to be at least another hour before Seth is out of surgery."

Ryan responds with a soft, "Ok," and although it's nice to see that the kid is willing to interact with him and Kirsten, Sandy's still concerned, because Ryan is so reserved, so painfully insular.

He hasn't said another word since the hallway.

Sandy tells himself that he can handle the situation. He can split himself in thirds and have enough of himself to cover his own worry for Seth, his need to comfort Kirsten and still manage to attend to Ryan's obvious state of distress.

"Over here, Ryan."

Sandy steers the teen towards the corner of the waiting room that he and Kirsten have claimed squatter's rights on.

When they reach the chairs, Sandy can't help but notice that Ryan is looking a little green around the gills. The kid has a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead and is swallowing a lot.

"Ryan?" Sandy asks. "Are you alright?"

"I think I'm gonna' be sick," Ryan answers, suddenly rushing past his foster parents, towards the hallway and no doubt the closest restroom.

Sandy follows, grimacing as he sees that Ryan hasn't made it to the public bathroom, instead leaning over the nearest trashcan right outside of the waiting room. Thankfully the opening is wide enough for the kid to make a bull's-eye deposit.

As the teenager braces himself on the edge of the garbage can, Sandy notices that Ryan isn't using both hands, opting instead to hold himself upright by relying heavily on his left hand while keeping the right one stiffly to his side.

Something doesn't seem right about the odd placement of Ryan's right hand.

"I'm sorry," Ryan apologizes, finally lifting his head up. "You guys don't need to be dealing with this."

"Do you have a fever?" Sandy asks, because with all of the craziness, it's been easy to lose track of the fact that he and Kirsten are supposed to keep an eye on Ryan for signs of mononucleosis.

"No," Ryan shakes his head, wipes at his mouth with the left sleeve of his jacket. "I think I just maybe shouldn't have eaten that cheeseburger."

"What's wrong with your hand?" Sandy asks, pointing to the right one.

"Um, nothing," answers Ryan, sliding the hand behind his back, "I…It's fine."

"Uh -huh," Sandy quips, gingerly reaching out and pulling Ryan's right arm towards him, "Let me have a look at it."

When he sees the swelling and bruising, Sandy's reaction is to ask, "Ryan, what the hell happened? You got into another fight?"

"No…yes," Ryan stammers. "Not really."

"Which is it?" Sandy asks, "because your hand is looking more like 'yes' than 'not really'."

"Um…that guy. I hit him."

Ryan looks around the hallway, at the garbage can, at someone passing by, at the wall, anywhere but at Sandy.

"You got in a fight with Ed?"

Sandy hopes he sounds stunned rather than incredibly giddy…because feeling happy about Ryan hitting Ed would just be so…wrong and irresponsible…..and yet, so very fucking satisfying.

But it dawns on Sandy that a fight generally involves at least two people and suddenly things aren't quite so inappropriately amusing.

"Ed hit you?" Sandy asks, trying to control his temper. The very last thing Ryan needs today is more drama or another unstable adult.

"No," Ryan answers, finally giving Sandy quick contact with his eyes, before focusing on the wall again. "I sorta' hit him."

"He didn't touch you?" Sandy checks for confirmation and when Ryan shakes his head, 'no', Sandy feels himself relax a little.

If Ed has laid a single hand on Ryan…

"Ryan," Sandy puts his hand on the teen's shoulder, forces the boy look up at him, "Why did you hit Ed?"

Ryan does the side-glance, tells Sandy, "He wouldn't let go of my arm or let me come here to the hospital and…"

"So Ed _did_ put his hands on you," Sandy interrupts, feeling his anger towards Ed growing again.

"Well yeah, but not really," Ryan backtracks. "I mean he grabbed my arm, but he didn't hit me."

"And grabbing your arm is ok?" Sandy asks, because if someone other than him or Kirsten grabbed Seth's arm, that wouldn't be ok, not by a long shot.

"I've had a lot worse," Ryan answers softly, breaking his eye contact with Sandy, looking again towards anything but his foster father.

Oh fuck, Sandy thinks to himself, this poor kid. And it's not pity he's feeling for Ryan, but just a general sense of helplessness, because no matter what kind of future he and Kirsten can give the teenager, they can't take away his past or how much it affects Ryan's current reality.

Sandy regroups.

He can't deal with everything at once. Even he has his limits and Ryan doesn't need for him to be in 'pissed off at Ed' mode.

Ryan needs stability and clear, calm focus.

Ryan needs the passive and protective 'Sandy Cohen' that he met in juvie.

Task analysis.

Task four. See if there's an update on Seth.

Task five, check on Kirsten again.

Task six, get Ryan's hand checked out and maybe find out a little more about what went down in the hotel today, with Ed. Maybe try and get a better feel for how much of a thin thread the kid is barely hanging on by.

Task seven, don't entertain thoughts of sitting down and having a breakdown because Sandy knows if he allows himself to fall apart, the whole house of cards folds in on itself.

"We'll talk more about this, when you feel better, ok kid? Let's go see if Kirsten needs anything, and then you and I are going to go get that hand looked at. Are you in any pain?"

Ryan seems unable to answer the question. But he clenches his hand tightly to his side and Sandy notices that the entire arm is shaking slightly.

Jesus, Sandy thinks to himself, Ryan probably got sick from being in pain.

Or nerves.

Or worry.

Or all of the above.

"We're gonna' check in with Kirsten, kid, and then we have to get that hand x-rayed."

Ryan doesn't argue or insist that his injured hand is 'fine'. Instead he dutifully follows Sandy back into the waiting room.

Kirsten is standing by a window, arms around her midsection. When she spots Sandy she immediately asks, "Is everything alright?"

"His stomach gave out. Bad cheeseburger," Sandy answers, leaving out the bit about Ryan's hand because his wife has enough on her mind.

Hell, they all do.

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Carol returns to the hotel and braces herself with several deep breaths before entering Ed's room.

Brad is sitting alone, watching television. He turns his head towards her as she enters and then simply returns his attention to the TV set. It's not like her youngest nephew to be without a single question or at least a greeting. Carol walks over to the bed, sits down next to Brad and reaches over to stroke his hair.

She's startled when he yanks his head away from her.

Brad's never done that.

Brad is usually the one seeking out physical contact.

"Hey…" Carol begins, but Brad interrupts her.

"Is he gone?" the boy asks angrily.

"Ryan?" Carol asks, even though it's obvious who Brad is referring to.

"Yes, I took him to the hospital to see the Cohens and their son."

"Good," Brad answers, his eyes still trained on the television, "I hope he never comes back."

"You don't mean that Brad," Carol tells him.

The boy turns up the TV, stares straight ahead and doesn't say another word.

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Summer Roberts is a woman on a mission.

She stomps out of the ER admittance area, Marissa in tow.

If she can't work with the tight lipped employees at HOAG, she'll just simply go right over their heads, straight to her dad, who is technically still on staff at the hospital, occasionally called in for emergency reconstructive surgery.

In a matter of minutes, one of the nurses she knows, Shawna, arrives, greeting Summer with a friendly, "Hey girl, long time no see. Your dad just called me. He said you're trying to track down information on a friend?"

Summer tells Shawna she looks fabulous, which the woman does, and introduces Marissa and casually mentions, yes, they do happen to have a friend in the hospital and his name is Cohen, Seth Cohen, and really he's more a friend of Marissa's boyfriend but still, would Shawna mind terribly finding out what's up?

"For you Ms. Summer Roberts? Anything," Shawna answers. She walks up to nearest nurses' desk and Summer waits impatiently, chewing on her bottom lip, for news.

"Summer honey, your friend is in surgery," Shawna tells the girls with an expression of sympathy.

The words hit Summer like a ton of bricks, because well, oh my God, maybe she really has killed Seth Cohen and that's so not good and that's so not cool and yeah, Seth isn't exactly what she wants in a boyfriend, even though maybe, lately, she's been second guessing herself a little on that position.

"Summer?" Shawna says, "You could wait in Recovery, ask them when they think he'll be done. Do you want me to take you there?"

"No," Summer shakes her head. "We'll be fine. Come on Coop."

Marissa waits until Shawna leaves them alone before making 'that face', that, 'wow, are you alright face' and asking Summer, "Are you ok?"

"Of course," Summer responds flippantly.

Why wouldn't she be ok?

So what if Cohen is in surgery. It's his own fault. What was he doing anyway, leaving his house if he was that sick in the first place?

Summer knows the answer.

Cohen was being a loyal friend to Chino, that's what he was doing. He was trying to look out for Ryan, just like she would look out for Coop.

And she was mean as hell to him up until the moment they pulled into his driveway and she finally realized how bad it was and saw the sheer look of panic on Seth's parents' faces as the ambulance pulled up.

"Actually Coop, I'm not so much on the ok," Summer says to Marissa, retracting her previous statement. "What if I have seriously killed Cohen?"

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"Rapid heartbeat leading to arrhythmia, sudden drop in blood pressure, dehydration prior to surgery, significant blood loss due to internal bleeding, anybody want to take a guess at what we've got?" Doctor Manning asks the three spanking new surgical residents that are observing what he thought would be a routine splenectomy.

Actually, he was hoping to show off to the residents by saving the kid's spleen, displaying to the interns how the hell you do it Dr. Manning style. Now he needs to remove the entire organ and get this kid stable.

"Anybody have an answer for me?" Manning raises his voice.

Everything's a teachable moment in emergency medicine and the frenzied environment of the OR, when monitors are screeching impending disaster, is a damn effective way to determine who has what it takes to be a competent surgeon. Even though his polished staff is already carrying out all the necessary interventions needed, he wants the residents to figure it out themselves because damnit, what the hell are they teaching med. students these days if they can't identify a simple case of…"

"Hypovolemic shock," a female resident blurts out, then repeats with a little more confidence, "the patient is displaying all the classic symptoms of hypovolemic shock."

"You!" Manning says to the young woman, "How would you treat it?"

"I'd push fluids," the intern answers, stepping forward, closer to Manning, "lots of them, in a hurry, at least two units of blood, get some Normal Saline going, squeeze it all in, get it into him as quick as possible. I'd start a Dobutamine or Dopamine drip STAT, to increase blood pressure and prevent organ damage or cardiac arrest."

"Well at least one of you brought your brain into work today," Manning quips.

He deftly removes Seth's spleen, drops it into a waiting metal receptacle one of his nurses is holding and tells the young female intern, "Congratulations, you just saved someone's sixteen-year old."

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Summer and Marissa walk quietly into the Recovery waiting room.

Now that they are actually at the hospital, Marissa is gripped with a feeling of complete discomfort. What if the Cohens don't want them here? What if something really, really bad has happened to Seth and Mr. and Mrs. Cohen are mad at her and Summer and don't want to see them. What if…

Then she sees Ryan, huddled in a corner, leaning into a post, hugging his right arm tightly to his body and she's so relieved to see him that she temporarily forgets her apprehension, calling his name, "Ryan," and walking quickly towards him.

"I was so worried about you, you left school so angry and then Seth said…"

Marissa stops talking.

Remembers why she and Summer are really here.

Looks apologetically at the Cohens.

"I…I'm sorry…about coming over without permission but Summer and I…we couldn't just go back to school without knowing if Seth was ok."

"Hey Chino," Summer gives a slight wave in Ryan's direction, nods tentatively at the Cohens. "Like Coop said, we don't mean to barge in but, like, going back to Harbor is just…I mean, this is so awful…about Seth…and it's kinda' our faults, 'cause we helped and all with him leaving your house but we didn't know he was so sick and we're really sorry if our being here is a problem and we could leave…"

"Don't be silly," Kirsten says quietly, "You girls are already here. It'll be nice for Seth, to…" she stops for a moment before adding, " to find out that you kids were concerned enough about him to come to the hospital."

Marissa thinks maybe the Cohens are just too polite to tell her and Summer to take a hike, but she doesn't care. She wants desperately to stay with Ryan. He looks terrible, pale and tired and so worn-out, just like he did when he was arrested right after the fire at Mrs. Cohen's model home. She's not sure what to do to make him feel better. He's the one that always looks after her and, to be honest, when Ryan gets in one of his 'moods', she tends to stay at a distance. He kind of scares her, in a way, when he's like this, so cold and distant, even though she knows Ryan would never hurt her. It's more like she has no idea what to say to him, so she just keeps quiet, hoping he'll get over whatever is wrong. He's so different, in so many ways, from all the boys at Harbor. Marissa has no idea how to handle him.

"I'm sorry for taking off," Ryan says softly, "it wasn't you. I have a lot on my mind."

"It's okay," Marissa fakes a smile, pretends that her feelings weren't hurt by Ryan slamming his books into the trash and completely ignoring her as he stomped out of school. Pretends that she didn't just stand there afterwards and feel stupid and useless and embarrassed as a few girls whispered behind her back.

Pretends that his few words to her are enough to make her feel like she understands him.

Pretends that she can comprehend why Ryan acts the way he does, even though in truth, he's more of a mystery to her now than the first few days she met him. At least at the model home, before it burned down, sitting at the empty pool, Ryan actually talked to her, told her about himself and was willing to open up a little bit. Now all he does is shut himself off. She never says anything to him or pushes him into speaking to her, because more than wanting to understand him, she just wants to be with Ryan and have him protect her from all the shit that she's constantly having to deal with and she's managed to convince herself that if she's just patient long enough, Ryan will talk to her again.

She pretends it's perfectly normal for them not to discuss everything that went down this morning and this afternoon and about the fact that his best friend is in surgery and that he disappeared for hours and maybe even was leaving for some reason, leaving Newport, although she still has no idea what in the hell he was doing at a hotel.

Ryan's just different, she tells herself.

He's different than all the other boys she's known.

He'll come around eventually. He'll open up to her someday.

But in the meantime, despite how stand-offish he can be, Marissa thinks that she's falling in love with him.

No.

She knows she's in love with him and he treats her with so much more respect than Luke ever did, and he makes her feel safe.

And important.

She walks over and nudges his left hand.

He returns the gesture by placing his hand in hers and giving her a quick, forced smile.

But he looks away again and all Marissa can do is continue to stand there, holding his hand.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Did you just get back?" Ed quietly asks Carol after he and Josh walk back into the hotel room from the balcony.

Carol nods.

Ed motions to the other side of the room.

Carol follows him over, away from ear shot of the boys.

"I've screwed up everything." Ed whispers. "I can see that now. Josh and Brad deserve better. I don't know what to do without Sara and I've been trying, but it seems like the harder I try, the further I push away the boys. Josh can't stand me, it's only a matter of time before Brad follows suit. How could things get this bad Carol? How could this happen? Seven months ago I had the perfect family."

"I suppose life happened," Carol answers. "Unpredictable, horrible bad luck happened. You didn't cause Sara's death, you're not trying on purpose to alienate your children. You're not responsible," she locks eyes on her brother, "for what Dawn Atwood did. But you have managed to screw everything up, I'm not going to lie to you about that. And you've been an insufferable son-of-a-bitch for a while now."

"Thank you," Ed shakes his head, turns from her. "That's lovely Carol, thanks so much for the emotional support."

"Don't talk to me about emotional support, talk to your sons, while you still can. I'll be downstairs in the lobby. You can do this and it's about time I stopped playing the middle man. Your kids love you. You're a good father. I think since Sara's death you've forgotten that."

She smiles at him and gives him a hug, because he just looks so sad and lost and lonely and she loves him, no matter how he may have been behaving.

Ed accepts it, and hugs her back and Carol thinks maybe things are salvageable after all.

Her brother's family will never be the same as it was before Sara died, but maybe he and the boys can still be a loving, close family, if he turns things around now, before it's too late.

As they step away from each other, Ed takes a deep breath and asks, "Is Ryan all right?"

"No," Carol answers bluntly, "he's not. He's a mess. He was most likely a mess long before you came to California and he probably will be for a while after we leave, but it felt right today, leaving him with the Cohens. It felt more right than all the times I've witnessed you trying to force a relationship with Ryan that isn't going to come naturally or quickly. You can't try and take him away from his foster family, Ed. Even if you manage to win custody, you'll lose Ryan. And if you won't take my word for it, then go to the hospital yourself and see that kid with those two people and then look me square in the eyes and tell me that he's not with people that genuinely care about him."

Ed doesn't respond to her words, staring straight ahead, at Josh and Brad, as the two boys sit at the table, staring back at him waiting for him to finishing talking to their aunt.

"By the way," Carol says on her way out the door, "The Cohens weren't lying when they called here. Their son, Seth, is in emergency surgery. If you're still going to push the custody issue concerning Ryan, have some decency at least to wait a day or two and find out if their son has survived."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy buys himself and Kirsten a cup of coffee, the two girls cold bottles of water and Ryan a Sprite.

"It'll help settle your stomach," he tells the teenager as he hands the can of soda to him.

Sandy makes a mental note to urge Ryan to try again in a little while to eat something. The kid looks like he's about to drop.

He watches as Marissa Cooper, her arm around Ryan's shoulders, plays with the back of the boy's hair, twirling strands into impromptu waves. The action is repetitive and Sandy can see Ryan's eyes becoming heavy.

Marissa leans into Ryan and whispers something Sandy can't make out.

Whether or not her words have meaning to Ryan isn't clear. He doesn't seem to even acknowledge them.

He cringes and pulls away slightly as Marissa bumps into his sore right hand.

"What happened to your hand?" Marissa asks him, loud enough for people in the immediate area to hear.

"I hit something," Ryan answers dully. "It's fine."

Kirsten's head shifts in the teens' direction.

"What's wrong with your hand, Ryan?" Kirsten asks. "Let me see it."

Sandy intervenes.

Ryan's already been through this once with him in the hall. There's no need for the girls to know what happened with Ed.

"Kirsten" Sandy says, his voice low, "I'll explain it later. As soon as we find out some information on Seth, I'm going to have Ryan's hand looked at."

His wife nods slightly, accepting his quick response.

Their area of the waiting room is quiet again, the talking stopping as abruptly as it began.

Summer sits off a bit to herself, Marissa clings to Ryan, Kirsten staring at nothing and Sandy silently watches her, repeating childhood prayers in his head, until forty-five minutes later, when a nurse informs them that Seth's surgery is over and someone will be in shortly to speak with them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dr. Manning takes a few minutes to clean up, straighten out his scrubs, throw on a clean lab coat and put on his game face.

No, things didn't go exactly according to plan in the OR, but they could have been a hell of a lot worse.

He's had occasions where things were, in fact, a hell of a lot worse.

He's had to walk into the waiting room and tell parents "I'm sorry."

But this time he'll be telling these people that their son is alive, and that he is guardedly optimistic for a complete recovery, although these next few hours will be critical.

Despite the additional units of blood, the teen's blood pressure is still low, the aftereffect of shock still rearing its ugly head. Cardiac arrest is still a slim possibility. A post-operative infection can never be completely ruled out.

The kid doesn't have a spleen anymore; his immune system will always be a little more susceptible.

Manning's still unhappy he couldn't repair and salvage the damaged organ.

As he walks into the Recovery waiting room, every single pair of eyes settle on him. In this case, he recognizes the parents from the pre-op meeting and doesn't have to make an uncomfortable call out for anonymous relatives.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy says softly but urgently, "Kirsten," and when she reacts to her name being called, he motions with his head towards the doctor.

Kirsten rises immediately, grabbing her husband's hand, and the two of them practically sprint to Manning.

"Seth is in Recovery," the doctor tells them when they reach him.

"Thank god," Kirsten says, clearly relieved.

"Did you have to remove his spleen?" Sandy asks. There's something about the way the doctor is standing, his arms crossed and looking intently business like that has Sandy uneasy, despite the positive words.

Manning nods, "Yes. I'm disappointed we couldn't repair it. But such is emergency medicine. Things don't always go the way we want them to."

"What happens now?" Kirsten inquires. "What can we expect in terms of recovery and how long he has to stay here?"

Sandy listens as Dr. Manning goes through a quick summary of the surgery, including the unexpected critical moments.

"Hypovolemic shock?" Kirsten asks, interrupting the doctor. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means your son lost too much blood too fast," Manning answers. "It's not unheard of with injuries like a ruptured spleen."

"Is this going to complicate Seth's recovery?" Sandy asks, trying to hide his nervousness over the doctor's unexpected revelation.

"Yes," Dr. Manning answers bluntly. "How much so, only time will tell. He's stable, but he'll be in ICU until we see proof that he's officially over the effects of the hypovolemic shock."

Sandy puts his arms around Kirsten as they listen and absorb the rest of the information the doctor tells them concerning Seth's surgery and recuperation period.

"You can join your son in Recovery for a few minutes," Dr, Manning says. "The ICU staff will brief you on the restricted visiting hours and procedures."

Sandy glances over his shoulder, at the three teenagers behind him, all of them waiting for answers.

He clears his throat, turns around and assures the teens, "Seth's going to be fine."

Marissa smiles.

Summer lets out a loud sigh of relief.

Ryan looks warily back and forth between the doctor and Sandy before asking, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Sandy nods. "Come on, they're letting us in to see him."

Ryan takes a few steps forward but stops when Dr. Manning says, "I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen. I can only allow you and your wife into Recovery."

"Why?" Sandy asks.

"It's hospital policy," Manning answers.

Sandy leans in close to the doctor, lowers his voice so Ryan won't hear the discussion.

"It's been a very difficult day on us. Please, the three of us need to go in together. Just give us two minutes, that's all I'm asking. Then I'll escort my son out myself."

Sandy watches the doctor's face closely as the man considers the request.

"Ok," the Mannings concedes. "Two minutes. I'm holding you to it."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan stands a little behind the Cohens, watching his foster parents bend over the hospital bed railing, quietly telling Seth that everything is fine and that they'll be with him all night and not to worry about anything. He's going to feel better in no time.

Ryan's never seen Seth so still.

His friend barely has enough energy to nod at his parents words of reassurance. He has dark circles under his eyes, accentuated by a complete lack of color. His hair is frazzled and looking way too much like a Brillo pad gone renegade.

He has an oxygen tube under his nose along with several IV lines.

A bag of blood dripping slowly.

One drip.

One drip.

One drip.

At a time, into Seth's vein.

Ryan rubs his good hand nervously against his jeans, shuffling from side to side, uncomfortable with how ill Seth looks and how different this situation is than any other interaction he has ever had with his foster brother.

He watches as Kirsten kisses Seth on the cheek and Sandy brushes his hair back.

Both the Cohens tell Seth they love him.

Ryan doesn't know what to do, what to say.

He feels completely out of place.

He doesn't belong here.

He should leave Sandy and Kirsten alone, let them be with Seth.

Ed Carden's words ring in his hear, words spoken a few days ago, when Seth was first in the hospital.

"_The three of them might need a little family time."_

He turns silently to leave.

"Ryan," Kirsten says his name softly. "Where are you going? Seth wants to say hi."

Ryan stares at his boots before sneaking a peek at Kirsten and answering, "Um, I think should go wait outside, leave you guys alone."

"Nonsense," Sandy says assertively. "Your place is here, with us."

"Ryan?" Seth asks, his voice breathy and high pitched.

Ryan doesn't move towards the bed. He looks up at Sandy, unsure of what to do. No matter what Sandy and Kirsten say, it still feels like he has no business being with them right now.

He's uncomfortable, seeing Seth like this.

"He's a little out of it," Sandy whispers. "Just go with the flow…whatever that might be." He smiles reassuringly as he and Kirsten step back from the hospital bed, making room for Ryan to slip in.

Ryan greets Seth with a slight wave and an awkward, "Hey, man. How're you doing?"

"I'm so fucked up," Seth slurs, his head lolling in Ryan's direction.

Kirsten lets out a sharp intake of air and Ryan's guessing it's the 'fucked' that caused it.

He hears Sandy say, "Let it go, honey."

"Yeah, you are," Ryan answers Seth.

"I'm glad you're here," Seth tells him, "wherever here is."

"Summer's here too," Ryan says, knowing the information will make Seth happy. "She's out in the waiting room. She came here just to see how you are."

"Summer, Summer, Summer," Seth repeats as he begins to drift off.

Ryan looks up at Sandy and Kirsten, unsure if Seth is ok because Seth never stops talking about Summer and he's certainly never fallen asleep while doing so.

"They said he'd be sleepy for a while," Sandy tells him, correctly interpreting Ryan's look of concern. "I'll hang out with you in the lounge until they move Seth to his room. We should let the girls know Seth is ok and tell them to head on home."

Kirsten suggests, "Why don't you tell the girls Sandy, and let Ryan stay here as long as the hospital staff lets him."

She smiles at Ryan, saying, "You can call Marissa later tonight, all right?"

Ryan nods in agreement.

He hates to admit it to himself, but having Sandy get rid of Marissa is a relief. He's so fucking tired and worried about Seth and the thought of having to go back into the waiting room and muster up enough energy to interact with Marissa is damn near impossible.

His hand is killing him.

Despite the fact that his stomach is unsettled and churning with anxiety over today's harried events, he's starving.

He just wants to make sure Seth is alive and going to stay that way, then he wants to find somewhere to lie down and pass out. He hopes Kirsten and Sandy will allow him to remain at the hospital, with Seth, maybe even crash in his foster brother's hospital room. Since he's been in Newport, close proximity to Seth has always been one of the few constants he could count on.

Sandy tells Seth one more time that he loves him, and then excuses himself, leaving Kirsten and Ryan to stare at a now sleeping Seth in silence.

Ryan hears a quiet sob and realizes that Kirsten is hugging herself and has started crying. He looks around for a Kleenex and spots some at the nurses' station.

"Um, I found these, if you need them," he says shyly to his foster mother, holding out the tissue box for her.

Kirsten tells him "thanks," as she pulls a few tissues from the box.

"It's just," Kirsten tries to explain her meltdown, "He looks so bad and I know Sandy is concentrating on being positive, but I can't help worrying."

Ryan stands there, still holding the box, unsure of what to say to Kirsten to make her stop crying. When his own mom cried, he would tell her he loved her and that everything would be ok. But Mrs. Cohen isn't his mom and he's not even all that comfortable talking with her about mundane topics such as clothes and school work, let alone Seth's tenuous health.

He finally says, "They uh, they said, the doctor said, he'd be fine. He just looks bad right now because of the surgery. But I'm sure in a little while, he'll be better."

To Ryan, his words sound stupid and superficial and forced and they probably won't help Kirsten at all.

But instead of ignoring him, she looks up from studying Seth and says to Ryan, "You're right. He'll be ok. I need to calm down. It's just hard. Someday you'll have kids. Then you'll understand."

She smiles a quick smile at him and takes the box of tissues out of his hand.

When a nurse comes to check on Seth, Kirsten asks for a bag of ice for her "other son", because he hurt his hand.

And Ryan doesn't feel all that awkward anymore, standing next to her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, the girls are gone," Sandy says as he walks up to the Recovery cubicle that Seth is still being montitored in.

Kirsten and Ryan are standing in silence next to each other, but there's no sense of an uncomfortable strain amidst the quiet.

Sandy's reminded of how alike Kirsten and Ryan are in that respect.

Quiet is as much comforting to them as talk and stimuli are to him and Seth.

He reaches out and draws Kirsten into a hug, slaps a hand on the top of Ryan's shoulder.

Stares down at Seth.

"Ahhh, quality family time," he remarks. "Who needs the dining room table? Not us Cohens."

Ryan responds with a small smile.

Kirsten… not so much.

A machine next to Seth's bed beeps loudly and all three of them step aside, allowing room for a nurse to enter.

"What's happening," Kirsten asks, edgy and looking back and forth from the noisy monitor to Seth and then the nurse.

"Did Dr. Manning talk to you about Seth's blood pressure?" she asks.

"A little," Sandy answers. "The influx of information has been a little overwhelming."

"I have no doubt," the nurse says. She points to a pair of blue numbers. "His blood pressure is too low. Right now he's on medication to support and raise it, but that can lead to arrhythmia."

Sandy glances over at his wife. She looks horrified at the unfamiliar word.

"What does that mean?"

"Sorry," the nurse says. "Irregular heartbeat. It sounds worse than it is. It's not an uncommon complication but so far, so good. All of these monitors will follow your son into ICU. Would you like me to continue explaining what all the other numbers means? Just give me a few minutes to record this data and then we can talk."

Kirsten immediately answers, "yes," but Sandy decides that it's probably better to take Ryan out of Recovery now, like he promised Dr. Manning he would. Kirsten can update him later, after Seth is settled in the ICU. Besides, all three of them tagging along for the transfer to the Critical Care Unit seems like overkill.

"Kirsten honey, Ryan and I are going to take off now. We'll see you upstairs in Seth's room."

She looks at him as if he's once again dropping the parenting ball, like Thursday afternoon, after it took him so long to get to the hospital when Seth first got sick.

He signals subtly to Ryan's hurt hand and Kirsten gives a nod of comprehension.

"You'll have your cell phone on?" she asks.

"Of course," he answers.

He leans over, gives his wife a kiss and whispers, "This is still new, for both of us, having more than one kid to worry about. I don't like leaving Seth either but I promised the doctor I would take Ryan out and I don't think he should be alone right now."

"It's ok," Kirsten whispers back. "I know. I understand. I'll be fine."

Sandy goes to collect Ryan and realizes the kid has more or less left the cubicle already, as if he knew instinctually that he was being discussed.

"They're going to kick us all out in a few minutes anyway," Sandy says nonchalant. "No big deal if I leave a minute or two early. Let's get that hand checked out."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Urgent Care doctor treating Ryan doesn't seem all that urgent, despite the fact that Sandy told him that he had a son in Recovery, on his way up to ICU and would it be possible to move things along as quickly as possible.

"My dad lost his spleen in Nam," the doctor says, as he pokes and prods at Ryan's hand. "Didn't slow him down one bit, although I would suggest a flu shot every year. Whew. Dad missed one a few years ago and wow, did that come back around to bite him on the ass."

Ryan grimaces as the man puts a finger on a particularly sore spot of his hand.

"Well, I don't think anything's broken," the doctor says, stepping back. "But I'm ordering an X-ray. You can go upstairs and take care of it lickity-split."

Ryan looks at the guy, thinking that it figures, the one time he actually hears someone uttering the words, "lickety-split", Seth isn't around to make all sorts of inappropriate comments.

"We'll he's a nerd," Sandy remarks after the doctor leaves the room. "Is nerd still a cool thing to say? What do you guys call nerds nowadays?"

Ryan smiles. "Nerd's good."

"I thought so," Sandy nods. "But it didn't sound right."

They stop on their way to Imaging to grab a bag of chips for Ryan.

"Once we check on Seth, I'll get you something that is actually identified on the food pyramid," Sandy says.

"This is fine," Ryan answers.

Truth be told, this may be the best fucking bag of chips he's ever eaten.

He's starving.

The secretary at the Urgent Care promised to call ahead, and she must have, because only minutes after they reach the check-in counter of Imaging, a lab technician meets them in the lobby.

"Hi," he says. "I'm Rob. I'm going to kidnap Ryan for a few minutes, snap a few pictures, and then let you folks know what you're dealing with. I understand you have another son in the hospital. I'll be as quick as humanly possible."

Ryan likes this guy. He could teach the Urgent Care doctor a thing or two.

"I'll wait here," Sandy says. "Give Kirsten a call and check on Seth."

Ryan nods.

He still hates the fact that Sandy is here with him instead of being with Seth and Kirsten.

But since the confrontation earlier in the hallway of the waiting lounge, things are more relaxed between him and Sandy, like they were before Thursday, before all the shit hit the fan.

Before that guy showed up and told Ryan he was his father.

Rob leads Ryan to a small, cramped room and asks him to sit down in a chair next to an extremely uncomfortable looking bed. It's more of a table really.

He drapes a lead apron over Ryan's head and positions his hand in an angle that will provide the best image of the injured area.

The maneuvering is painful but Ryan's used to the fallout of getting his ass kicked and kicking other people's asses. He manages to keep his outward discomfort to an occasional hiss.

"Be back in a sec," Rob says. "I have to go in the adjoined room and snap the pictures."

Ryan nods.

Whatever the guy wants.

As long as he does it fast.

"Ok, well," Rob says, emerging. "That's it. Why don't you wait here for a minute or two and I'll be back with the results."

As soon as the door closes behind him, Ryan lays his head down on the table.

God.

What a fucking day this has been.

Could be worse he supposes.

He could be Trey, locked away in prison.

Or his mom, wherever the hell she is.

Or his dad, ditto to Trey.

It's been so long since he saw his dad, and now this new guy is his actual biological dad and Sandy behaves more like a dad then his father ever did and shit…..

He realizes that he can barely remember what his dad looks like. And he must look different now. It's been almost eight years.

No letters. No phone calls.

He probably never wanted kids in the first place.

Who cares if he's not even his real dad because shit, he wasn't much of a dad to begin with anyway? He doesn't even count anymore.

Ryan's so tired.

He's done thinking about anyone or anything that doesn't involve Seth.

Fuck it all.

He's done worrying about any of it.

If this new guy sues for custody, Sandy will stop him.

Sandy won't let him be taken away.

Sandy wouldn't even let Ryan take himself away from them.

The bag of chips has taken the edge off his hunger.

His hand has settled into an acceptable throb.

Ryan's eyelids slowly slip shut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy finishes up his phone call to Kirsten. Seth is still in the process of being moved. The nurses told her it would be at least a half hour before her or Sandy could gain access to the ICU room.

Rob, the radiologist comes out and Sandy notices right away that the guy is walking a little faster than he probably should be.

"Was there any head injury?" the man asks quickly. "When Ryan hurt his hand, was there any accompanying head trauma?"

"What? No." Sandy says. "Nothing like that. It's just his hand."

"You're sure?" Rob asks again.

"Absolutely," Sandy answers.

"Can you follow me, please?" Rob asks, looking a little doubtful.

He leads Sandy to the room that Ryan is in and points to the teenager.

"Well, he's out cold. Dead to the world. I usually only see this in little kids. I even tried shaking his shoulder but I'm not comfortable going any further, especially without checking with you first. Are you sure there's no chance he could have injured anything other than his hand?"

"No," Sandy shakes his head. "I think he's just done being awake for a while. He's had a tough day. I'll take it from here."

Rob explains that nothing is broken or fractured but Ryan does have a small bone chip.

"A few weeks in a soft splint and it'll be as good as new," the radiologist promises. "I hate to say it, but you have to go back to the Urgent Care to get the splint and the anti-inflammatory prescription."

Sandy thanks the man and walks over to where Ryan is passed out.

The poor kid is actually snoring softly. It's tempting to just find a way to leave Ryan here, let him get some much needed sleep.

"Hey," Sandy says, leaning in close. "Time to wake up, Ryan."

When that approach doesn't work, he shakes Ryan's uninjured arm, calls his name a few more times.

Ryan turns his head in the opposite direction but doesn't open his eyes so Sandy takes more drastic measures and heaves him up as best he can by the armpits.

The kid must be made of rocks.

He's heavy as all hell.

"What are you doing?" Ryan asks, confused, finally becoming a little more aware as he stumbles to his feet.

"Moving you," Sandy says. "Remind me never to try it again."

They find their way back to the Urgent Care, Ryan yawning the entire way.

"What happens if that guy calls?" Ryan asks as they sit in a treatment room, waiting for the splint. He looks exhausted, his impromptu nap only serving to make him appear sleepier.

"Ed?" asks Sandy.

Ryan nods.

"What do you want to happen?" Sandy asks cautiously.

Ryan rubs at his eye. Unconsciously pats the side of his jacket for his pack of cigarettes.

"I'm not sure."

"Are you still thinking about living with him?" Sandy asks, a little surprised because he thought, finally, they were done debating that issue.

"Did you want me to?" Ryan asks, sounding equally surprised.

"Oh, hell no!" Sandy says quickly, and they both laugh, Ryan with his head down and a big grin, Sandy with a smartass smirk on his face.

"But you….still want some contact with him, right?" Sandy guesses and then modifies his question to, "The boys?"

"I think so," Ryan says, yawning again. "I don't know. It's confusing. I hit that guy in front of his kids. I think they both hate me."

"Those kids are your half-brothers," says Sandy, remembering his wife's real concerns when it came to whether or not Ryan should have contact with his biological father. "But you have a habit of doing things you think you should do because of how it impacts others. So, if you want to maintain contact with those kids, you need to make sure it's because you want to, and not a sense of obligation. You have so much on your plate right now. We clearly still have things to work out as a family, issues we need to address with you, starting foremost with why you almost went to live with a complete stranger when you yourself just admitted you never wanted to leave us."

Ryan doesn't respond verbally, but he raises his head and looks intently at Sandy.

"Why don't you spend a day or so…or a week…or month thinking about it. Take your time Ryan, because once you commit yourself to spending time getting to know those little boys, you're going to be in for the long haul because believe me, and I speak from experience, once they know you, they aren't going to ever let you out of their lives."

Sandy's words earn another welcomed smile from Ryan, although he tries to hide it by wordlessly returning his gaze to the white-tiled floor.

Silence is a little hard for Sandy sometimes, especially with all the energy he's channeling today, what with Seth's operation and Ryan's missing in action routine, but something tells him to just hold his tongue for a second.

Ryan nods, which Sandy interprets as, 'I'll think about what you had to say.'

The kid closes his eyes and Sandy thinks for a moment the teenager might fall asleep again.

But instead, Ryan says quietly, "No matter what I decide, about those kids, that guy…he can't do anything. He can't take me away, right?"

"No," Sandy answers.

"No one is taking you away from us, Ryan. Not ever."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To be continued, few more chapters to go. But I suspect you know it's winding down.

Wink.


	32. Best of Intentions Chapter Thirty One

**Author's note: **

I will be forever grateful to crashcmb for helping me with Best. No words.

**Sappy Warning:**

I've had this chapter done for more than two years. From time to time I've wondered why I don't just post the damn thing, but this story was one of my first real attempts at writing fanfiction, and I know in retrospect I was worried that everyone who had spent so much time reading this story and Thursday Afternoon would ultimately be let down by the ending.

This story was never meant to be anything but my own selfish desire to fill-in the gaps of how and why Ryan became comfortable living with the Cohens. It always seemed to me that the show glossed over so much of that…of everything a child would go through when suddenly abandoned by a parent and thrust into a new home.

There's no Earth shattering climax to this story. It just ends quietly but hopefully full circle.

I'm not sure why I suddenly decided to post. I think maybe, oddly, Southland reminded me how important it was to be responsible and finish this story. And in a very cowardly way, so much time has passed that I am no longer worried about people being disappointed with the ending. Hell….I'll just be surprised if anyone is still reading! lol

This should go without saying, but thank you to everyone who has been a part of my life in this fandom. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

Since I haven't updated in um……well….I'm too ashamed to mention the year…I'll just remind everyone that Ryan has finally ended up back with the Cohens in the hospital. Seth is no longer dying. Ryan has a broken hand from hitting Ed, and Brad the youngest son, witnessed Ryan and Ed fighting.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Best of Intentions

Chapter Thirty-One

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Carol's been following Brad around most of the late afternoon and into the night, trying to get a read on what's going through the little boy's head.

Now he's sitting next to her in the booth of the restaurant that Ed has taken them all to in an effort to restore some normalcy to their day.

Brad's mouth is clamped tighter than a clam's. He wouldn't hold Carol's hand as they walked to dinner. He won't talk to her.

He won't smile.

"Tomorrow's your birthday," she gently reminds him, "Are you excited?"

"No," he mutters.

"Brad, are you gonna eat your fries?" Josh asks loudly from across the table.

Brad shoves his plate towards his older brother.

"You should at least eat your cheeseburger, honey," Carol tells the boy, scooping the untouched sandwich off the plate before Josh can claim ownership of it.

"I'm not hungry," Brad grumbles.

Carol looks over at Ed and sighs.

"Hey," Ed smiles with a grin way too wide for the current mood, "What do you mean you're not excited about your birthday, huh? You've been talking about it for months. Have you decided where you want to go tomorrow to celebrate?"

Brad remains silent.

"The beach?" Josh offers through a mouth full of fries.

"Legoland?" Ed contributes.

"Disneyland?" Carol suggests. "We'll get the ticket hopper and go to both parks."

"Don't forget you promised me a ride on the roller coaster, Aunt Carol," Josh says, finally swallowing his fries and reaching for his drink. "Have you chickened out?"

"Hardly," Carol answers, playfully stealing a fry from him.

The moment of levity is over just as quickly as it started and the silence that has dominated the night settles in again.

Ed clears his throat.

"So, son, which is it? Tomorrow's all yours Brad."

"I can pick anywhere to?" Brad asks, but his voice isn't exactly filled with excitement and Carol is suspicious of where the conversation is headed.

"Sure," Ed says, "Of course. Just name it."

"Then I want to go home," Brad says briskly. "I miss Grandpa and Grandma."

Ed clears his throat again, this time initiating a wary glance in Carol's direction.

"Don't be silly son. You've been talking about visiting California since you were four years old. You can't possibly want to go home. I know today was…a difficult day, but we're still here as a family, and part of our plans were to celebrate your birthday. If you're not up to making a decision tonight, we can talk more about it in the morning, ok?"

"So you lied," Brad says softly, pushing his spoon around in a circle, his eyes fixed on the table. "You said I could pick anywhere and I pick home. I don't like it here. I want to go home."

Josh stops shoving fries in his mouth, instead looking up and concentrating on watching the tense interaction between his brother and father.

"Is that really what you want?" Ed asks. "That's a pretty drastic decision, Brad. Once you make it, you can't take it back. Let's wait until the morning. You'll feel better, be excited about your birthday."

"So you lied," Brad repeats. "I _can't_ go wherever I want."

"No," Ed answers briskly, standing up, a trace of frustrated anger in his voice. "If you want to go home, then you can go home. I'll call and make arrangements as soon as we get back to the hotel."

"Ed," Carol says quietly.

"What?" he asks coldly.

"He's just confused about everything that's happened today. Please, let's remain calm and talk about this before anyone makes a rash decision."

"Well I'm confused too," Ed counters, not quite as abrupt as he was with Brad, but not necessarily granting Carol's requested calm. "And you know as well as I do that Brad's far from being a helpless, passive child. It's his birthday. If he wants to leave and go home, then home he goes."

Carol rolls her eyes.

Jesus Christ.

How much more drama can one family fit into a day?

"Hey," Josh interrupts indignantly, "I wanted to go home days ago and no one listened to me."

"It wasn't your birthday," Ed snaps back.

"Here we go again," Josh murmurs under his breath, retreating into his plate of fries.

Frustrated with yet another of Ed's mood swings, Carol hides a smile in response to Josh's comments.

From the mouth of babes.

"Let's go," Ed says. "I think we're done here."

As they walk home the short distance to the hotel, the boys lagging behind, Carol tells her brother, "I'm leaving for Illinois tomorrow morning."

"To take Brad home?" Ed asks, seemingly relieved. "Thanks, Carol. I know I shouldn't have lost my cool in the restaurant but it seems like if it's not Josh testing me, then it's Brad. I just got things semi worked out with Josh today and now Brad is starting in on me. Enough is enough."

"He watched Ryan hit you today, Ed," Carol reminds her brother, amazed that he's not making the connection himself. "Brad's not trying to _start in on you_, he's trying to figure out what in the hell happened. One minute Ryan is an exciting new person in Brad's life and the next minute he's someone to be scared of."

Ed blows out a deep breath.

Rubs his temples, unconsciously massages his sore and bruised jaw.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asks his sister. "This situation isn't exactly something I can call dad for advice on. Hell, I'm not even sure what happened today. I thought I could save Ryan. I figured he would just accept me, because Dawn has fucked up everything so badly. But this kid, he wants nothing to do with me. I didn't think it would be this hard. I need your help to solve this."

"There's a reason I only have a dog," Carol retorts. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm not a parent. I suppose you could start by asking Brad what he's thinking about, how he feels about Ryan hitting you. And by the way, I'm flying out alone tomorrow. If you want to avoid the problem with Brad by sending him away, you'll have to do it without any help from me."

"Excuse me?" Ed says, sounding confused. "You're just going to abandon me with this mess?"

"Did I stutter?" Carol asks.

Head stiffly forward and determined, she continues to walk straight ahead.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten listens to Seth's soft, quick inhalations.

In and out.

She's pulled a chair up close to his hospital bed in the ICU and all she can think about is how when she and Sandy first brought Seth home from the hospital a day after he was born, they spent the first twenty four hours simply making sure he was still breathing. It was insane paranoia and even that first chaotic day home, as they were doing it, they both knew it was irrational, constantly checking to make sure their baby was still alive. But it was as if they couldn't believe that this small human being was actually theirs and maybe if they didn't keep their eyes on him, he might cease to exist.

Seth draws his mother's attention to the present, waking up in a haze, his head moving groggily in the direction of where Kirsten is leaning towards him.

"Hi," she whispers, smiling, trying not to break down again in tears tinged with both relief and lingering anxiety.

"Hi," he whispers back, his throat cracking with a combination of mono related irritation and post anesthesia dryness. "I'm sorry for leaving the house today."

"I don't care about that," Kirsten answers, her crystal blue eyes locked with Seth's brown ones.

"Excellent," he says, rolling his head in the opposite direction. "If figured I was screwed."

As he falls back asleep, Kirsten counts his breaths…in…out…in…out, all the while her eyes keeping a constant vigil on her son.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, this isn't so bad," Sandy comments. "I've slept in worst places."

Ryan glances at his foster father skeptically. Seth's ICU room is too small for any of them to set up camp so instead, Sandy has commandeered five waiting room chairs and tucked them into a corner by the soda machine.

Sure, the chairs may have padding, but they are skinny as all hell. Ryan seriously doubts that even scrawny Seth could get comfortable on the makeshift bed, no matter how many chairs Sandy strings together.

"I could just sleep on the floor," Ryan offers, willing to trade cleanliness for width.

"You don't want to do that," Sandy scoffs.

"Yes, actually, I do," Ryan deadpans.

"What you should do is go home and get a decent night's sleep in your own bed," Sandy chastises. "I promise one of us will call you if something changes with Seth's condition."

Sandy says the words as if he's casually discussing tomorrow's high and low tide predictions.

Maybe he's faking being relaxed over the fact that Seth is in the ICU, his blood pressure still low, breathing and heart rate a little too rapid, or maybe Sandy just assumes that everything will be ok…because that's just sort of a Sandy thing to do.

But Ryan isn't wired for optimism and he's not budging from this hospital tonight, no matter what.

He's staying where Seth is until his foster brother has moved to a room where nurses and doctors don't keep the door wide-open and check in on him every ten minutes. He's staying put until Seth doesn't have a big tube down his nose that runs into his stomach and more tubes under his nose supplying oxygen. Ryan ain't budging until Kirsten doesn't look like she's made of glass and Sandy isn't hopping around playing the part of the Pied Piper of Grace Under Stress.

And Ryan's keeping close to the Cohens, keeping them within immediate proximity, because the thought of going anywhere else and being with anyone else isn't anything at all that he wants to think about.

"If Seth is really ok, if he's fine, you can come home with me, right?" Ryan asks, calling Sandy's bluff.

"Touché," Sandy concedes. "We stay. But at least lay down somewhere here in the hospital, kid. You look like you're ready to drop."

_I am_, thinks Ryan.

_So are you, Sandy._

"It's better if you stay close to Kirsten and me anyway. I don't want you in the house alone. But seriously, you need to get some sleep. Now."

Ryan nods.

He's exhausted. Plus, he's fairly sure that Sandy is feeling obligated to remain with him instead of joining Kirsten in Seth's room. If he agrees to take a rest, then Sandy can go back to his family.

"I'd like to ask you for something Ryan, but I don't want you take it the wrong way."

Ryan stares at Sandy, his head slightly cocked.

"I want you to give me your cell phone. Just for tonight."

Ryan continues to stare, wondering what he's done wrong now, that with everything else going on, Sandy would be bothered to suddenly want to take his cell away.

Maybe he's being paranoid. Maybe Sandy's battery is just dead and he needs to borrow Ryan's phone.

But that theory doesn't make sense, given Sandy's request that he not take anything, _the wrong way_.

"Did I do something wrong?" Ryan asks cautiously, digging into his jeans pocket for the cell.

"No," Sandy shakes his head. "I just don't want you dealing with any phone calls tonight."

Ryan has successfully retrieved his phone, but he's reluctant to give it to Sandy. His cell has always been one of the token instruments of his independence since he's come to Newport and besides, he's still not sure what's going on and he's concerned that if he just turns the phone over to Sandy, he won't find out what his guardian's actual intentions are.

"I could um, I could let Marissa know that I'm trying to get some sleep. Tell her not to call me until the morning."

"It's not Marissa I'm worried about," Sandy says, studying Ryan carefully.

Ryan doesn't feel threatened under Sandy's stare.

Just unsure.

If it's not Marrisa Sandy's worried about and with Seth out of commission, then there's not a whole lot of people left who would call him.

Except…

That Ed guy.

"I don't think he's going to try and call," Ryan says quietly, dropping his head, not even bothering to identify Carden by name, knowing that the guy must be the person that Sandy is concerned might phone. "I think he's pretty pissed at me."

Sandy's hand edges closer to Ryan's cell. "I don't think I'm willing to take the chance. Make no mistake, this isn't about me not trusting you. This is about me not trusting Ed. Let me have the phone please."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy feels a little bit guilty, confiscating Ryan's cell from him. But goddamn if he trusts Ed Carden any further than he can throw him and Ryan's been manipulated enough by the asshole.

Ed's frantic race to claim rights over Ryan have reduced the teenager to a shell of the kid who has been living in Newport.

Ryan looks almost exactly like he did when Sandy plucked him from the front of the strip mall in Chino.

He's smoking again.

A lot.

Sandy can smell it on him.

He looks depleted and drained.

His face is bruised, maybe not a direct result of Ed, but most certainly related to what Ryan is going through, his hairpin temper triggered at soccer practice this last weekend resulting in the black eye he's now sporting.

The new soft splint on the kid's right hand, a result from punching Ed, completes the miserable ensemble.

If social services did an impromptu visit, no one currently vying for permanent custody of Ryan would stand a chance in hell of gaining it.

He'd be taken away from all of them, both Sandy's family and Carden.

"You can have the phone back, whenever Kirsten or I are around but I'm not leaving it with you. If you want to call Ed yourself, I'll let you do it, I'll step away as far as you want me to. This isn't about me controlling you. This is about Ed calling you when your like this, in pain and exhausted and vulnerable to his manipulations."

Ryan cringes a little at the last few words.

"I won't bad mouth him in front of you, Ryan. I have no right to do that. But I also refuse to pretend that he has handled any of this appropriately. I'm sure, over time, if you want, you and Ed can forge a friendship or at least an open line of communication. But not right now, certainly not tonight. He's done contacting you until you've had sleep and time to relax and catch your breath and _you_ are going to be the one that decides when and how the next interaction with him happens. And yes, I know that you are more than capable of simply not answering the phone if he calls, but do you really, honestly even want to deal with any of it right now? Just give me the phone, turn all the bullshit over to me. Get some sleep. Spend time with Seth. Take your meds. Stop the smoking. Eat a decent meal. Let me earn my title as your guardian."

Ryan nods silently, something he's been doing quite a bit recently.

He gives Sandy the cell but before releasing it he says, "I need to call Brad. I took that guy out right in front of him. He's a little kid and I hit his dad with him watching. That's something I never thought I'd do. That's something my father did, hit my mom with me watching. I never thought I would do that. I shouldn't have done that."

"Ok, fair enough," Sandy answers. "You're right. You should talk to Brad, for both your sakes. But it can wait until the morning. In the meantime, your floor is waiting."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As she packs up her suitcase, Carol feels like she's the absolute worst human being in the world, walking out on Ed and the boys. But she's not sure what else to do. The more she sticks around, the more complicated things are getting and yes, maybe the events of the past few days would have played out almost exactly like they had even if she hadn't come to California, but if she knows one thing for sure, it's that Ed and the kids have been leaning on her more and more like she's Sara's emotional substitute and quite frankly, Carol is more than aware that she's not cut out for that job. Hell, if this trip has taught her anything, it's reminded her why she childless. She's a great aunt, she knows that. But she's not interested in being anyone's mother.

Carol loved Sara, but she can't take her place with Josh and Brad.

It's time to draw the line in the proverbial sand, something she probably should have done a lot sooner.

The boys have figured out that she's leaving and Josh is the first one to voice his discontentment, coming into her hotel room and plunking himself down on her bed.

"But you promised to ride the rollercoaster with me," he says. There's no hint of whining in his voice, but rather the boy sounds genuinely hurt. "When I was crying about mom the other day, you promised me we would ride one while we were in California, just for her."

"I'm sorry, Josh," Carol says. "When I made you that promise, things were different. I have to go home. But I'll make it up to you. We'll hit Six Flags in the summer."

"But that's not the same," Josh protests. "We've already rode all those together. This ride was supposed to be for mom."

"What I'm doing right now _is_ for your mom, Josh. You and your dad and Brad need to be alone right now, to work things out as a family. Your mother would want the three of you to as close as you were before she died."

"But you're a part of our family," Josh continues to ply Carol with objection.

"I'm extended family," Carol corrects him. "I know it's confusing, my actually place in your life, because I've been around so much since your mother's death. But it's time I pulled back. You guys need to figure out how to depend on each other again."

"Are you just gonna' leave us here alone with dad?" Josh asks, sounding both shocked and maybe a little bit scared.

"Of course," Carol answers. "He's your father, Josh. You've been with him all your life."

"But he's nuts right now," the boy says, so matter of fact that Carol has to suppress a smile. "Can Grandma at least come out here before you leave?"

"No, honey. You and your father need to relearn how to communicate with each other without anyone butting in."

Josh changes tactics. "Well, what about Brad? You should stay because of him. Brad needs you."

Carol stops packing, sits down on the bed and looks at her nephew.

"What Brad needs right now is his father and big brother. It's time for me to leave, Josh. I'm sorry. I'm not abandoning you. I'm doing this for your own good. Someday you'll understand."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ryan's finally asleep," Sandy informs Kirsten as he leans down, giving her a kiss.

"Good," she answers. "He needed it so badly."

Sandy points to Seth.

"How's he doing? He looks a little better."

Kirsten tells him, "The nurse said that his blood pressure is going up. I guess the next step is to lower the medication they are using to keep it elevated, see if it can stay stable on its own."

She sounds truly hopeful for the first time in hours and Sandy assures her, "He'll be fine, honey."

Seth appears relaxed in his sleep, not at all in pain. Sandy reaches out and feels his son's forehead.

No fever.

They must really be pumping some good stuff into Seth's IV's.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Trey is there, telling him he's leaving the house._

_For good this time._

"_I got to get out of here, away the fuck from…her," his brother insists. "I swear Ryan, I fucking hate her."_

_Ryan is thirteen and scared by his brother's words._

_He doesn't want to be alone. He doesn't want to think about trying to live in this house without Trey._

_He doesn't want to think about it._

"_What about me?" he asks quietly, following Trey around the room, his arms wrapped around his stomach. "Are you just gonna' leave me here? Can I go with you?"_

_Trey isn't listening. He's too busy stuffing clothes into a bag._

"_Fucking bitch whore," he says loudly._

_Yells it actually, through the thin walls of their house. Ryan can hear their mother crying._

_Trey rips the bedroom door open, stomps down the small hallway._

"_Don't ever come back! Do you hear me, Trey!" Dawn screams at him through tears._

_The front door slams shut._

_Ryan stays in the bedroom, his head down._

_All he can think about is the fact that now, his mom is his sole responsibility, and tomorrow he has an English test, and he's hungry and all they have is a fucking box of cereal, three bottles of beer, a bunch of whiskey, and some frozen hamburger patties._

_And he's scared._

_He goes into the living room._

_His mom is still crying._

_Ryan gets a paper towel, hands it to her, watching as she wipes her eyes._

"_I'm done with him," Dawn says forcefully. "I mean it this time, Ry. Trey is never coming back into this house. Never."_

_She stands up and walks slowly into the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of beer out of the fridge._

_Ryan silently joins her, begins defrosting the hamburger, and hopes like hell that Theresa's mom has a few spare pieces of bread._

_He hates eating hamburger without bread._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten takes a break from being at Seth's bedside.

Sandy seems to want to stay and she could use a chance to stretch her legs.

Her deep feelings of dread have eased up. Seth's still in the ICU and she should still feel panicked, but for some reason she doesn't, and that alone is all she needs to know that her son is going to be all right.

As she walks into the waiting room, she stops cold.

She doesn't see Ryan.

But Sandy said he was here, so she squelches her rising concern that the teenager has taken off.

She goes further into the waiting room and finds Ryan in a corner, behind the soda machine. Her husband has managed to make a private space for their foster son.

He's deep in sleep, facial features slack, and his injured hand sticking straight out.

Kirsten realizes that she still doesn't know how he hurt it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Ryan feels sick to his stomach._

_Something isn't right._

_His mom is eating her hamburger, chewing away, and he's hungry but as he looks down at his own plate, there's worms crawling out of his burger._

_He can hear his mom chewing._

_A few worms make their way onto the table._

_His stomach gives way._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Oh shit," Kirsten says, stumbling in surprise as Ryan shoots straight up and begins vomiting.

His eyes are still closed, bangs obscuring a full view of his face.

"Oh God, Ryan," she says, unconsciously backing away and then catching herself, she pushes forward, towards him.

"Sweetie?" she says, bending down, tentatively placing her hand on his back. "Are you ok?"

Stupid question, she chastises herself.

The child is throwing up…perhaps even while still asleep.

That's not ok.

Luckily Ryan has missed vomiting on his pants, but she doesn't want to chance him getting anything on his clothes, so she gently guides him away from the puddle next to him.

"Are you awake?" she asks him.

He nods, allowing her to scoot him sideways.

She immediate puts her hand on the back of his neck.

Days ago, Seth's stomach was the first indication that he was sick. That and the fever.

And the lethargy.

What if Ryan now has mono?

He doesn't feel warm to her touch.

In fact, he feels a little bit cold.

She makes a mental note to find him a blanket, that is, as soon as she finds a doctor to check him out.

"Does your neck hurt?" She asks him. "Do you feel achy?" She rambles off a few other early symptoms of mono that she remembers.

He shakes his head 'no' to all of them.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I was dreaming about a hamburger."

That…makes no sense at all. But she goes with it, because at least he's talking to her.

"Does your stomach hurt?" she asks.

This time he says, "I'm not sure."

Kirsten slows her brain down. He's not feverish. She urges herself not to jump to such dark conclusions. Just calm down and think.

Sandy mentioned pain meds to her. The doctor prescribed them for Ryan's hand. She spots a pharmacy bag near the soda machine.

Standing, she steps around the mess of vomit and picks up the bag. There are two bottles in it. An anti-inflammatory and a pain reliever. She reads the label. Both of them advise in bright orange print to take the medication with food.

"When's the last time you ate anything?" she asks Ryan.

He looks up at her, squinting, as if he still hasn't fully woken up.

"Sandy bought me a bag of chips."

"Before or after you took your medicine?"

Ryan shrugs then seems to concentrate on the question and answers, "Before. I think."

'Men,' Kirsten thinks disgustedly to herself. Would it kill them to read directions?

"Come on," she says to him quietly, reaching under his arm to help him into a standing position. "I'm sure you don't want to hear this, but we need to get some food in your stomach. Then you can go back to sleep."

He grabs his jacket that's been doubling as a pillow.

On the way to the cafeteria, Kirsten stops by a nurse's station to see if she should give him more pills, because he may have thrown up most of the medication along with what she now knows is semi-digested Lays potato chips. The nurse tells her no more meds, wait until he's due for his next dose.

She calls Sandy, tells him what happened, where they are going, and suggests that he may want to tell someone that there is a slight mess in the waiting room.

"Poor kid," Sandy says.

Kirsten couldn't agree more.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan sits at a table in the cafeteria, his head curled into the crux of his elbow, waiting for Kirsten to return with a grilled cheese and fries.

They both decided that meat products were out of the question. Ryan's just happy that this part of the hospital is open and is willing to feed him what he wants.

Kirsten is right.

Despite having just thrown up, he's starving.

But he's also exhausted and he feels himself staring to doze off.

He thinks about his dream. Really, except for the fictional disturbing worm part, it was more of a memory. It's not the first time that his Mom and brother's last, final, blowout has echoed through his brain.

He wonders why he had the dream tonight of all nights.

"Ryan?"

Kirsten is back.

The smell of the food is sufficient enough motivation to get him to ease his head up and accept the tray from his foster mother.

"Thanks," he says softly.

"You're welcome."

Before he takes a bite, he apologizes again for almost spattering her with grossness. He probably, definitely, embarrassed her. And once again, he's keeping one of Seth's parents from him.

"Please," she says, dismissing his apology. "Sandy should have read the label to your medication. Are you feeling any better?"

He is, actually, and answers her with a nod.

Kirsten asks what happened to his hand.

Ryan stops chewing, studies his soft splint.

"I hit that guy," he tells her, lowering his head so he doesn't have to see her face. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't of. I promised you guys no more fighting."

"We'll talk about it more in the morning," she says casually. "After you get some sleep."

She's not eating anything herself. Just sipping coffee that Ryan is guessing is extra strong, based on the smell that is wafting over to him. He thinks about how strangely the current situation mirrors some of his dream.

Only Kirsten isn't drinking alcohol.

And she's the one that got him food, not the other way around.

And her words are quiet and not peppered with hate.

And he isn't scared.

He hopes his mom, wherever she is, is eating. He was always the one that took care of her, who cooked for her.

Kirsten reminds him that she bought him some milk and that he needs to drink it. It'll coat his stomach.

After he takes a sip she asks quietly, "Are you going to stay living with us? With everything that's been happening, I haven't had time to really talk to Sandy about it."

Ryan keeps his head down.

"We only want what's best for you," she says. "We want you to be happy. We want this to be your decision."

She repeats her question, just as quietly, "Are you going to stay with us, Ryan?"

He takes a deep breath.

All of it can wait.

Everything.

His memories of his old family and his concerns about his new one and his self-loathing of himself about what a jackass he can be when it comes to making good decisions.

All of it can wait.

The Cohens only want the best for him.

It's taken him months to understand what this sentiment means and even longer to accept it.

But Ryan knows now, what her words mean.

He knows it's ok to believe in them.

He's going to try so hard not to second guess any of it any more, his feelings of finally having hope for his future and his doubts that someday the Cohens won't mean the promises they have made to him.

He's gonna' try so hard to just believe.

"Yes," he says, nodding, slowly raising his head, glancing at her quickly, spotting a smile on her face before dropping his eyes again. "If it's all right with you guys, I want to stay."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten remains with Ryan in the waiting room until she hears his soft breathing take the form of patterned sleep.

Just like a few days ago, she has a motherly compulsion to reach over and put her hand on his hair.

Maybe some day, she and Ryan will feel comfortable with physical contact when he's awake.

But for now, this will have to do.

When she goes back into the ICU, Sandy flashes an immediate smile.

"They're moving Seth to a step-down unit in the morning. Doctor Manning said everything looks good. His blood pressure is holding."

"Thank God," Kirsten says, relief pouring out of her.

Just…thank God for the way everything has worked out tonight. Everything. Both for Seth and for the other child she's slowly realizing she wants for her own.

"Ryan told me he's staying with us."

"I know," Sandy answers, taking her hand, pulling her into his lap. The hospital chair isn't quite made for two, but they manage to make it work. Sandy places a kiss directly behind her ear. "Sorry. I should have told you myself. I guess with everything…"

"No" Kirsten tells him, leaning backwards so that her full weight is supported on his chest. "I think it was better hearing it from him."

"We have a hell of a time coming up," Sandy says, hugging her. "Seth's going to be a mess physically, Ryan mentally. We have to figure out a way to help them both over these latest hurdles."

"We will," she says with a smile. "We'll manage. We always do."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan used to have a mom and dad and a brother.

Then it all fell apart.

He used to believe that nothing would ever be the same.

No he knows it won't be.

He can never have his old life back.

Not any of it.

He's in a new home now, with new people.

When his mom left him with the Cohens, he felt abandoned but relieved and despite not wanting to and knowing he was better off with the Cohens…he felt trapped.

None of them had a choice, really, him living there, in the pool house.

Not him or Sandy or Kirsten or Seth.

Ryan was just sort of…all of a sudden, there, standing in the kitchen with no mother.

The Cohens had a chance this week to change everything, to have him go away, but he's still with them.

They still want him and god, he's finally, truly realized it, he wants them for as long as they'll keep him.

He hopes they never change their minds.

Ryan used to have a family once.

Then they left him one by one until all he had was a stranger's phone number.

A lawyer's business card.

Until all he had was three new people to take the place of the other three.

Things will never be the same for him.

Not ever.

He'll never be the same person he was. Everything has changed.

And for the first time in a long time, in maybe forever, Ryan has a life that he thinks maybe he can live with.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This is the end, although, there is a half-written epilogue to wrap up things…but it's being held hostage in my old laptop. I'm working on getting it to behave and boot-up. Worse comes to worse…I'll re-write it from memory.

Thank you for reading.


End file.
